


I Go In All Directions

by SushiOwl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (in a minor character), Alternate Universe - Church Camp, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asexuality, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink (mention), Dirty Talk, Gardens & Gardening, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Sports, Stiles is 17, but not from Peter or Stiles, but only just barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles's friends and family are concerned that he might be gay. Despite his protests, they send him to a "homosexual rehab" camp called True Directions. There he meets Peter, and yeah, Stiles is feeling a bit gay now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched But I'm A Cheerleader. This story doesn't really follow it, but it's the influence. 
> 
> You know who else is the influence? Taylorpotato. Monster.
> 
> Disclaimer: Some characters are out of character. There's no way Scott, Melissa and John would send Stiles off like this, for instance.
> 
> I **do not** give my consent to have my works listed on goodreads.

"Good practice, guys!" Stiles said, bouncing into the locker room and slapping Greenberg on the ass. He didn't think anything of it as he went to his locker and took off his clothes. He headed into the shower as most people quickly vacated it. Huh, they must have been in a hurry.

After drying his hair and getting dressed, he elbowed Scott in the side. "Excited for this weekend, bro?" he asked, grinning at his best friend. A weekend together meant Left4Dead2 and all the foods that ended in Os. Burritos. Tacos. Doritos. Taquitos. It was time to gain five pounds.

"Yeah," Scott said, hefting his bag onto his shoulder and not meeting Stiles’s eyes. Stiles guessed it had more to do with the D he'd gotten in Economics than not being excited about serious bro time.

Stiles flung his arm across Scott's shoulders, leading him out to the parking lot. Scott's weekend bag was already in Stiles’s backseat, so they were ready to go. When they reached the car and got in, Lydia walked by, holding Jackson's hand. Stiles sighed, because she was perfection. If only she would notice him and drop that asshole of a boyfriend. She deserved better.

Scott was quiet on the way home, so Stiles filled the silence with chatter about the movie he'd rented for them to watch tomorrow. He'd also gotten hot dogs and burgers for them to cook. Easy stuff that wouldn't end up with the house on fire. 

When they reached home, Stiles went to jump out, but all of the sudden Scott grabbed his arm. Stiles looked at him, blinking in confusion. 

"What's up?" he asked slowly.

"No matter what, you're my brother," Scott said, with a very serious expression on his face and a set to his crooked jaw.

"Okay," Stiles said, brow furrowing, before he huffed as he was hauled into a tight hug. He patted Scott’s back as he was held tight. But before he could ask what Scott’s damage was, he was released and Scott was heading inside.

Very confused now, Stiles followed after grabbing Scott’s bag when he forgot it like a dork. He went inside and headed for the living room, and he stopped dead when he reached it. His dad, who was supposed to be working, Scott's mom, who was also supposed to be at her shift at the hospital, and Scott were all standing and waiting for him. With them was a man he didn't know. He had a clipboard and a shirt that said 'True Directions.'

Stiles dropped his backpack and Scott's bag to the ground. "What's this?" he asked, glancing around. Everyone but this new guy looked a bit guilty. 

“Hello, Stiles,” the strange man said, stepping forward and offering his hand. Stiles took it with a frown. “My name is Michael. I know you must feel confused, but I just wanted to let you know that your friends and family are here because they love you.”

“Is this an intervention?” Stiles asked, frowning deeper. He couldn’t think of any of his vices that were dangerous to his life. Sure, he drank his weight in soda, but he was active enough to work off the sugar and caffeine. He’d been known to spend all night playing video games, but he always did his homework first. And maybe he had a cigarette every now and then, but he wasn’t a chain smoker or anything awful. He couldn’t see a reason for there to be a worry.

“In a way it is,” Mike said, stepping back. He waved Stiles’s father forward. “John, why don’t you tell Stiles what you told me?”

John cleared his throat, stepping up beside Mike. It took a moment for him to meet Stiles’s eyes. He seemed to gear himself up. “Kiddo, I’m worried about you,” he said, his words slow like they hurt to say.

Stiles’s expression was deepening into severe annoyance now. “What for?” he asked. What ever this was, it was probably bullshit. He got good grades, hadn’t been arrested yet, and he had plans for college! He wasn’t a good kid, but he had potential.

John rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re worried you might be…” He sucked in a deep breath, the tension going tight and heavy between them. “Gay,” he finally said.

Stiles blinked. Then he blinked again. Then his brows came down. “You’re shitting me,” he growled.

“Now, now, Stiles, no need for that language,” Mike said, trying to be placating. 

“No, really, you have got to be shitting me!” Stiles all but yelled. “How can you possibly think that I could be gay? I have been chasing the same girl for ten years now. She’s perfect and all I’ve ever wanted, and you think that I like dick?” If he were a volcano, he’d be spewing lava everywhere, and all the little houses in the city below him would have been on fire.

“Dude,” Scott said, swallowing. “I’ve seen the way you look at the rest of the team in the locker room.” He lifted his chin a bit. “They’ve noticed too, especially when you keep slapping everyone’s butts.”

“Good job butt slaps are a tradition in sports!” Stiles all bit wailed, offended now. “Nobody’s ever complained about it.”

“That you’ve heard,” Scott told him with a non-threatening smile.

Stiles want to punch him. He just frowned at them all.

“But don’t worry, Stiles,” Mike said, apparently taking Stiles’s silence as acceptance instead of what it really was, which was seething anger and betrayal. “You have options. I want to tell you about True Directions.” He pulled a pamphlet off his clipboard and handed it over to Stiles. It had a picture of your bland white bread teenage couple on it, holding hands and smiling, just a few years away from being a nuclear family. 

Stiles sneered at it, opening it up and taking a quick look. There were more pictures of girls in pink and boys in blue, all of them happy. There was also a picture of cabins with crosses on the doors. “You’re sending me to church camp,” he said, and it wasn’t even a question.

“We think of it more as a _homosexual rehab_ than a church camp.Though we do give the Father above His due.” He made the sign of the cross on his chest before kissing his fingers and pointing up. 

Stiles was starting to feel physically ill.

“I was where you were once,” Mike said, and Stiles just narrowed his eyes at him. “You see, I am an ex-gay. I was a sexual deviant, and I was around the wrong type of people. But like you, my family and friends cared about me enough to take a stand. I went to True Directions when I was seventeen, and my life changed. My tale is one of discovering and accepting the heterosexual man at my core.”

Yep, Stiles was going to vomit all over this guy.

“Ture Directions offers a program for teenagers to find their true selves, instead of living in confusion and desperation.” Mike set his hand on Stiles’s shoulder, and the corner of skin at Stiles’s nose crease twitched up in a miniature snarl. “All you have to do is complete the program to bring out the straight guy in you.”

Stiles couldn’t believe this shit. What the hell was this guy even spouting. He looked over at his father, Melissa and Scott, trying to find something in their expression to tell that this was all a very elaborate and not at all funny prank. But all he saw was determination and worry. God, he really wished he was being Punk’d. 

“We just want you to be okay, kiddo,” John said, and Melissa and Scott nodded in agreement.

“I’m fine,” Stiles tried to say in an even, confident way, but it came out whiny and defensive.

“That’s what I thought too,” Mike said, squeezing his shoulder. “But I was so deep that I couldn’t even see my self-destructive attitude and actions.”

Obviously he wasn’t getting out of this, not with the three most important people in his life backing it up. He frowned deeply and looked through the pamphlet again. “Alright, fine, how long do I have to go? A week?” He could probably be gone from school that long and not have his grades suffer.

“Six weeks,” Mike said, nodding.

“Six weeks?!” Stiles bellowed, startling the whole room. “Are you fucking joking?! No way!”

* * *

The ride to the camp grounds was a long one, almost three hours. Stiles spent the whole time listening to music on his iPod, feeling like a child stuck in the backseat of Mike’s car. He kept frowning and making faces at his barely there reflection. He was so pissed off and time was only making it worse.

No matter the fact that his dad had talked to the school, and he would be able to make up all of his homework and tests, he was going to miss _so much._ He was going to miss all the lacrosse rallies, the after-game parties and just hanging out with his friends. He probably wouldn’t even be on the team anymore when he got back. Though, if Coach was to be believed, it wouldn’t be much of a loss.

But he was already the weird one, and this was just going to make it worse. Now, when all of his classmates found out what was going on, he’d be the weird _gay_ one. What little bit of a social life he did have was going in the shitter when all was said and done.

Great.

“We’re here,” Mike sang as they pulled off the main road. Stiles pulled out his earbuds to look upon his impending doom. 

The first thing he saw was a tall Victorian-style house with white paint and columns. It looked like it would be a haunted house in one of those movies where it was being sold for painfully cheap because it had a terrible past. And the white dad would tell his wife and children that it was a fresh start for them. Then they’d all die, starting with the family dog. Great first impression. 

As they drove onto the property, Stiles saw two cabins, one with a pink door and the other with a blue door. That was a bit on the nose, but nothing about this camp seemed subtle. Stiles’s nose scrunched up as he noticed a few teenagers milling about. All the boys were wearing blue shirts and blue shorts, and the girls were in pink.

“What the hell are they wearing?” he grumbled in Mike’s general direction.

Mike chuckled. “Every camper is assigned a few uniforms for the duration of their stay.”

Stiles almost dry heaved. “Fucking fantastic.”

There were a couple other buildings on the property, but Stiles didn’t pay them much mind as he got out of the car, pulling his bag onto his shoulder, his fluffy pillow on top. He fought the urge to recoil when Mike patted him on the back and steered him toward the pack of teens.

“Hey, kids,” Mike said as he and Stiles stopped near them.

“Hey, Mike,” the kids, and Stiles had never seen a group of such forced smiles before. At least he wasn’t the only one who loathed what was happening. 

“Kids, this is Stiles, and he’ll be joining us here at True Directions.” Mike gave Stiles a nudge, and he stuttered toward them. “Stiles, these are your new friends.” 

Doubtful. Stiles tried to smile, but he probably looked like he was having a stroke. 

“Okay, Stiles, I need to collect your phone,” Mike said, holding his hand out.

Stiles made a face at it. “Why?” he asked, reaching into his pocket for his phone before holding it to his chest. 

“We try to limit outside influence as much as we can so campers can focus on their recovery,” Mike said, prying the cell phone out of Stiles’s grasp. “But don’t worry, there is phone time every night before lights out, so you can talk to your dad then.”

“Lame,” Stiles said, feeling a pout coming on. “Can I at least keep my iPod? I need the music to sleep.”

“Sure, that’s not a problem,” Mike said, nodding.

Stiles pulled it out. “Okay, cool, what’s the WiFi password?” That just made Mike laugh, and Stiles felt like an absolute idiot for asking. God, he was so used to his life being oversaturated with social media--Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter--that he was going to go stir crazy at this place. All his internet friends were going to think he had died.

“Your uniforms are on your bed in the cabin. Get to know everyone else, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mike said, before he did the most bizarre thing and ruffled Stiles’s hair. Then he walked off.

Stiles pulled the most exaggerated stank face at Mike’s back, touching his hair like the strands hadn’t been in disarray already, before his features smoothed out as he looked at the others. There weren’t very many people. Only three girls and four boys, including himself. For a second he thought he was seeing double, because two of the boys were definitely twins. He looked between the lot of them. “Hi,” he tried, very lamely.

One girl stepped forward, holding out her hand. “Hi, I’m Caitlin.” She had long brown hair and friendly brown eyes. “Stiles, right?”

Stiles took her hand, giving it a shake. “Yeah, that’s right. I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you, but I’d rather be anywhere but this freaking place.”

Caitlin gave him a sad little smile. “I understand,” he said, dropping her gaze. But then she indicated to everyone else. “Okay, so that’s Emily and Heather. That’s Jared, and the twins are Ethan and Aiden.” Everyone nodded or waved, looking pretty much like a litter of puppies abandoned at a high-kill shelter.

After a long moment of awkward silence, Emily cleared her throat. “Okay, well, we’ll let you get settled in,” she said, before she led the girls away.

Jared put up a hesitant hand and gestured for Stiles to follow him. Stiles, Jared and the twins all went inside the boy’s cabin. It was very blue. Not tastefully, more like overpoweringly blue. The walls were blue, the ceiling was blue, the floor was blue, the beds were blue, and even the lampshades were blue.

“I'm blue da ba dee da ba die,” Stiles sang softly as he looked around.

There were eight beds in the cabin, and Stiles dropped his bag on the bed with blue clothes piled neatly on top of it. He looked to either side of the bed and frowned. There was like four feet between each bed.

“They’re scared that if the beds are too close together, we might sleep-fuck,” said one of the twins, and Stiles looked over at him. He was smirking.

“There’s a word for that,” Jared added helpfully. 

“Somnophilia,” Stiles said, and Jared nodded sagely, like he was impressed. He’d probably be less impressed if he knew that Stiles found that out by Googling if sleep masturbation was a thing because he kept waking up with sticky shorts.

Stiles picked up the shorts he was supposed to wear and put them against his front. “Jesus, why are these so wasted? Are they chastity devices too? My poor balls are going to feel like they’re in a vice.” That made the others chuckle. He gave a small grin, thinking maybe being around these guys wouldn’t be _too_ bad, before he went to take off his shirt.

“Wait, wait!” Jared squealed, and Stiles stopped mid-motion, eyes going wide. Then Jared pointed to a poster on the wall. It had a picture of a dude undressing with a big red X over it. ‘Don’t undress in front of each other’ it said.

Stiles dropped his arms and growled. “You fucking serious with this shit? The sight of my nips and Batman boxers is not going to make you guys want to jump me.”

One of the twins made a face like ‘it might.’

Stiles grabbed the clothes and stomped over to the bathroom. It had two urinals, two closed in toilets and around a wall six closed in shower stalls. There was a poster on the wall of a dude with his eyes covered by his hand. ‘Keep your eyes to yourself!’ it said. Stiles let out a frustrated groan and got changed.

* * *

Stiles hated the outfit. The shorts were way up in his ass because they were so high-waisted, and the shirt was such a thick cotton that his skin couldn’t breathe. He kept tugging on his clothes with a sour expression on his face as he and the rest of the campers were led to the Victorian house for dinner.

The dining table was long with so many chairs. Mike led the campers to one end where there were place settings. Boys on one side and girls on the other. Stiles thought Mike was going to sit at the head of the table, but instead he told them to wait to sit and headed out of the room. The camp kids were left to look at each other in confusion.

A woman entered to room, wearing a white dress was a pink rose embroidered to the side of the collar. She had hard eyes and a tight smile to match her firmly styled blonde hair. She was older, probably in her fifties, and everything about her screamed _matriarch._

She moved over to the head of the table, curling her fingers with their prim pink nails over the top of the chair. "Hello, campers," she said, eyes darting between them. "My name is Mary, and I am the head counselor here at True Directions. I am so happy you lovely young folks are here. Don't be frightened." Her smile grew, but it was still icy. "You're here for your mental and sexual health. This is a place for family and healing. You’ll be a better person when you leave."

Stiles didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing.

“Have a seat, boys,” Mary said, gesturing to the chairs. Stiles and the rest of the boys pulled out their chairs and sat, looking a bit perplexed as to why they were toward to sit and not the girls. But then Mary moved to the side, beckoning the girls to follow her. “Come, with me, ladies, and we will get the food.” They headed out of the room.

There was a bit of silence where obviously none of the boys knew what that was about. Why couldn’t they all have gotten their food and brought it in? Stiles felt like a bit of a shit, sitting there and waiting to be served.

“Maybe we take turns getting each other food?” Jared said, sounding hesitantly optimistic.

Mary and the girls came back in, carrying trays of food. “Serve the boys first, ladies,” Mary said, and the girls did as told. “That’s it. See how easy it is to slip into the submissive domestic role?” Mary was smiling with a bit more warmth now. “It’s natural for women to take care of men.”

Stiles felt like he was in the Twilight Zone. Was this woman for real?

“What the fuck?” one of the twins said very softly.

“Next, ladies, we’ll learn how to cook for our men.” Mary gestured for the girls to sit and took a seat herself. “After all, every good wife should be able to provide for her husband when he gets home from working to support her.”

Stiles wanted to slide under the table and belly crawl to freedom.

“Later,” Mary went on, looking to the boys. “Mike will guide you men in activities to boost your masculinity.” 

“Like watching sports and chopping wood?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask.

Mary looked pleasantly surprised. “Yes!”

Oh lord no.

“Alright, let’s all join hands for grace,” Mary said, holding her hands up. Jared and Emily were sitting at the corners of the table by Mary, and they looked at her hands like they were made of wasps before gingerly taking them. Everyone else down the line joined hands as well, and Mary closed her eyes.

Stiles just stared at her.

Mary cleared her throat. “Bless us, oh Lord, and these gifts we are about to receive into our bodies. Thank you for the bountiful food you have provided us. Please help us to remain grateful for your gifts. And please help these young campers live their lives as you intended. We are your servants. Amen.”

The answering ‘amen’s from the kids weren’t at all enthusiastic.

Throughout dinner, they were mostly silent. Mary tsked at Heather once for slurping her spaghetti, saying it wasn’t ladylike. Heather nodded and ate quieter, and Stiles wanted to shove his face into his food and hoover it like a pig in sympathy.

After they were finished eating, the girls were instructed to gather the dishes, and Stiles just sat there feeling like a piece of shit. But he didn’t have much time to mope, because Mike came in and led all the boys to a lounge area with chairs covered in plastic at the corners, each with a phone. Mike told them they had twenty minutes because the girls would be coming in after they were done with the dishes.

Stiles watched as Jared went to the far corner and curled up in the chair, sinking in on himself, and the twins went the opposite corner. Stiles turned and went over to a phone corner himself, plopped down in the chair and grimacing as the plastic squeaked. He grabbed the phone--an old school one with a cord, what the fuck--and dialed the house number.

“Hello?” his dad answered.

“Yo, Daddy-O!” Stiles tried to sound chipper, but honestly he was feeling nauseated because he was figuring out what this camp really was.

John chuckled. “Hello, kiddo, you sound like you’re in good spirits.” 

“Yeah, sure, having the time of my life at Camp Oppression!” Stiles said.

“Oh, c’mon, Stiles.”

“No, really! It’s awful here. Everything is blue, and they’re going to make me watch sports!” he growled, knowing that wasn’t even remotely what was at the heart of the problems, but he got so flustered when he was angry.

“You like sports,” John tried gently.

“Not when I’m forced to watch them,” Stiles huffed. “What if they make me watch soccer? Dad, I hate soccer.”

“I know, bud.” 

Stiles let out a shaky breath into the phone, his chest clenching as he got all choked up. “Why did you send me here? Did I do something to make you mad?”

“No, Stiles,” John was quick to say. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just worried about you. I’ve read the stories and seen the statistics about gay men. I don’t want you to feel like an outcast. I don’t want you to get bullied or discriminated against. I don’t want you to get _killed._ I just want you to have an easy life and be happy. You’ve already been through so much.”

Stiles reached up and brushed the moisture from his eyelashes, before he gave a loud sniff.

“Just give that place a shot, please?”

Stiles swallowed. “Okay.”

Stiles barely slept that night.

* * *

With thoughts of his father in his mind, Stiles walked into the first group counseling session thinking he would be less of a shit about this. He knew that it was awful, but all he had to do was keep his smartassery to himself for six weeks and then everything would go back to normal. It wasn’t going to change him, because there was nothing to change.

“Alright, campers, today we are going to talk about the first step in the five step program that you have to complete in order to be a graduate of True Directions,” Mary said, sitting primly in a throne-like chair with the campers sitting in hard plastic chairs in a half moon in front of her. “This step is admitting that you are a homosexual. Verbalizing your depravity is essential, because admitting you have a problem is the first step to seeking change.”

Mary looked over at the twins, which were sitting together at the end. “Aiden,” she started.

“Ethan,” the twin said, looking like he was fighting a frown.

“Sorry, sweetie, Ethan. Please stand up, state your name and tell everyone that you are a homosexual.”

Ethan slowly stood up, picking at his collar a second. “Uh, I’m Ethan,” he began, his eyes on the ground. “And I’m a homosexual.”

Mary began to clap, and the campers joined in. “Good, Ethan, very good. Alright, continue down the line.”

One by one the campers stood up and said their names before saying that they were homosexuals. They all looked deeply uncomfortable. Stiles was debating what he was going to do as it got closer and closer to his turn. He would be very last. Should he just conform and go with it? Or should he be true to himself? His dad wouldn’t like it, but he couldn’t just _lie._

Finally, he took in a quick breath, because it was his turn, and everyone was staring at him. He swallowed and stood up, suddenly very aware of his wedgie and that he couldn’t pick at it. “Uh, hi, I’m Stiles, I’m a Libra and I like MMOs.” He tried for a smile, but Mary did not look at all amused. Stiles frowned. “And I’m a heterosexual.”

Mary gave him a very bland expression. “Stiles, it’s very disrespectful to joke about this.”

“I’m not kidding though,” Stiles countered. “I’m not gay.”

Mary’s lips thinned out into a line. “Stiles.”

“I’m not!” Stiles said, very defensive.

“Oh really?” Mary said, crossing her arms over her clipboard. “So you like women?”

“Yes!” 

Shit, if he could convince her now, then he might be on the next ride out of there.

“Describe your ideal woman for me, Stiles,” Mary prompted.

Well, that was really easy. “Okay, well, she has long, wavy, strawberry blonde hair, big hazel eyes and really adorably deep dimples when she smiles. She’s not very tall, but she’s always in heels that click in the hall when she walks so confidently. She’s really smart, super good at math, and she’s definitely going to be prom queen.” He smiled, thinking about Lydia. She really was his dream woman.

Mary just gave a slow blink. “That’s rather specific,” she said, and Stiles grinned wider, because he thought she was seeing the error of her ways, but then she gave a cold smile. “Perhaps too specific. You sound like you’re compensating, Stiles.”

“What,” Stiles said flatly.

“Since we know that you don’t really like women, tell us what kind of men you’re interested in.”

_Sorry, Dad, I tried._

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stiles began, sarcasm boiling up inside of him. “Probably tall, handsome, and muscular with a big fucking dick since I’m such a raging homo.”

Mary tilted her head just so. “So you admit that you are homosexual.”

Stiles threw up his hands before covering his face and letting out a deeply frustrated sound. “Sure, whatever,” he said, wanting the focus off of him before he lunged at this woman and bit her face off.

* * *

Group lasted until lunch, and after grilled cheese sandwiches the boys and girls were split up again. Mike led the boys to a viewing room with a frankly sad little TV and some beat up couches. They were sat down, and Mike popped a tape into the VCR. What year was this?

Stiles was expecting some kind of black and white instructional video on Being A Man. What he wasn't expecting was for a slightly grainy but still totally legible Mets symbol to appear on the screen. Mike left them alone to watch the game--one from what looked like the 80s--and Stiles was pleased as punch.

Stiles hadn't seen a game this old before, and he was delighted with how different the players looked. The game announcer sounded nasaly and just as excited as Stiles. He started yelling when one of the players slid to a home run, and Stiles whooped, throwing up his fist.

Then Stiles looked over to gauge the reactions of his comrades. They looked way less stoked. The twins looked bored, and Jared looked confused. Stiles frowned. "You guys are really enforcing a stereotype here," he told them.

The twins both frowned, before Aiden--at least Stiles thought he was Aiden--spoke up. "We prefer basketball."

"Of course you do," Stiles said, before he looked over at Jared. "What about you?"

Jared looked a bit ashamed. "My bubbee doesn't let me watch TV."

Now that was just sad. Stiles moved over to the loveseat Jared was on. "So you don't know the rules?" he asked, and Jared shook his head. "Do you want to?" Jared nodded, and Stiles grinned. "Alright, you have your positions: the pitcher and the catcher..."

By the time the game ended, Stiles and Jared were both hollering like a couple idiots. Even the twins joined in, though they looked like it took so much effort to care.

* * *

It was an hour until dinner when the game ended, and the boys were let out and encouraged to mingle with the girls. They gathered on the far side of the girl's cabin in an area with cut logs as seating and a black pit in the middle of the circle for a fire. They kind of stared at each other a minute, looking like a bunch of teenagers that would much rather be on their phones or computers then interact with someone next to them.

Stiles eventually cleared his throat. "So what did you girls do all day?" he asked.

Caitlin gave a loud sigh, eyes to the heavens. "We learned how to properly vacuum, and then we practiced changing a baby." Her face very plainly said how aggravated she was with all of this.

"I got peed on," Heather said, bringing attention to a purple stain on her shirt. "Not really pee, just water and food coloring."

"That sounds awful," Stiles said, and the other boys mumbled in agreement.

Mary was actually serious about enforcing bullshit gender roles. Stiles wouldn't have been surprised if she was telling the girls to find husbands that could support them so they could stay home with the kids. It was gross, much more damaging than the masculine shit thrust onto the boys.

"What did you guys do?" Emily asked, voice small.

"We watched baseball," Jared replied, smiling.

The girls all frowned, but Emily looked offended. "I love baseball," she bit out. "What teams?"

"Mets and Astros from '86 national league championship," Stiles said. "Mets won."

Emily jutted out her chin. "The Giants are better."

Stiles could have growled. "I will cut you."

There was the sound of a voice near the group, and they all looked over to see a man walking past the cabins, talking on his phone. He was probably in his thirties with slicked back black hair and well trimmed facial hair. He was also smoking a cigarette as he walked, ignoring the teens. He disappeared behind the cabins, voice fading.

God, Stiles was gasping for a cig.

"Who was that?" Heather asked.

"Dunno, but he was hot," one of the twins--definitely Ethan--said, sounding pleased.

"Careful what you say," Emily warned. "You might get in trouble."

"Are you going to tell on me?" Ethan huffed.

There was a moment of silence. "No," Emily finally said.

Stiles sat there wondering how Ethan could tell the man was hot from so far away. Though, if he had to think about it from a gay point of view, his pants had been form fitting and attractive from behind. Again, only if he was being objective.

* * *

Stiles was pissed on behalf of the girl's after breakfast. Apparently they'd been woken up before the boys just so they could make everyone breakfast. They looked tired, Heather especially. Stiles wanted to hug them. That was probably why he did it. When they girls went to gather the plates, he flailed and snatched them away, stacking all the plates on his before standing with them in his hands.

"Stiles, what do you think you're doing?" Mary asked after him as he walked toward the kitchen. He didn't answer, just out the plates in the sink and turned on the water. "Stiles, that is not your job!"

"Why not?" Stiles barked back, whirling toward her. "The girls cooked, so it should be the job if the dudes to clean up. That's how my father and I do it. The back and forth is good for our relationship." He grabbed the dish soap and the scrubber.

"And what about your mother?" Mary asked in a prim way.

"She's dead," he growled in return, starting to scrub the greasy remains of bacon and sausage off the plates.

Mary didn't say anything, just clicked her way out of the room.

Stiles expected for everyone to be waiting for him in the room they held group when he was done, but the only one there was Mike. Stiles squinted at him in confusion from the doorway. "Is this where you tell me I'm grounded?" he asked, worries they were going to take what few privileges he had away.

"No, no," Mike said with a smile. "Mary is with the others, assigning them jobs."

"Jobs?" Stiles asked, worried what that might entail.

Mike just gestured for Stiles to follow him, still smiling. "Step two of the program is all about performing gender associated tasks. You've done some of that already." He went out the front door, and Stiles trailed after him like a baby duck. "Ethan, Aiden and Jared are assigned to the garage where they will learn to fix up cars. Mary has a different assignment for you."

"Of course, she does," Stiles said under his breath.

Mike continued to lead him across campgrounds, taking him to a shack behind the cabins. There was a wheelbarrow filled with flowers next to it, as well as some lawn maintenance equipment leaning against the side wall. 

Mike knocked on the door primly. "Oh, Peter!" he called in a sing song way.

After a minute, the door opened, revealing the same man from the other night. Up close, he was a lot more handsome than Stiles had thought. His blue eyes were amazing. 

"Peter, this is Stiles." Mike patted Stiles's shoulder without looking. "And Stiles, this is Peter, your job mentor."

Peter squinted briefly, like he hadn't been expecting this, but he held out his hand all the same. "Hello, Stiles." Oh, sexy voice.

"Hi," Stiles squeaked as he took Peter's hand, before he cleared his throat and said again, in a voice a few octaves lower than his normal one, "Hi."

Peter's lips twitched in what was probably amusement as they shook hands. "I guess you'll be helping me plant flowers today.”

Stiles made a face, the same one that he made every time he had to do things outside in the sunlight. He looked to Mike. "Isn't gardening kinda gay?" he asked.

Mike rolled his eyes to the heavens for strength, before he just walked off.

Peter finally smiled. "I prefer the term 'groundskeeping' to 'gardening'," he said, stepping back inside the shack.

"Okay, Hagrid," Stiles mumbled, probably too softly to be heard.

But then Peter stepped back out and tossed him a pair of work gloves. "Does that make you Harry, Ron or Hermione?" he asked, shoving his own gloves partway into his back pocket so they hung over his ass.

"Probably Ron, given my luck," Stiles said, grinning to himself. It was always nice to run into another HP nerd. He wondered what else Peter was into. Tight jeans, for certain. Stiles walked just a bit behind as Peter grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and turned it toward the front of the camp.

They stopped at the front of the large house, and Peter set the wheelbarrow down. "Have you ever weeded before?" he asked, pulling out a trowel and tossing it over.

Stiles flailed just a little but managed to catch it. "Yeah," he said, looking at the two long flower beds bracketing the steps to the porch of the house. There were some weeds, but it wasn't too awful. He used to garden with his mother when he was a kid, and when she'd died the responsibility fell on him to keep the plants alive.

"Get to pulling then," Peter said, going to the end of the other flower bed and going to his knees as he pulled on his gloves.

Stiles looked down at his knees, which his blue shorts didn’t cover. He was going to look like a bad schoolboy with dirty knees. Oh well, not his fault and not his problem. He plopped down onto his knees and got to work.

They met in the middle of the flowerbeds, and Stiles was sweaty and gross already. Peter was sweaty too, a dark V on the front of his shirt, but he was much more composed about it. They sat on the steps a bit.

"So what did you do to piss off Mary?" Peter asked eventually, and Stiles gave him a confused look. He smirked. "You must have made a hell of impression to be partnered with me."

"Oh, what didn’t I do?" Stiles smiled a bit. "I'm not doing anything I'm supposed to be doing."

"Such as?" Peter prompted, putting his elbow on his knee and cupping his chin with his hand.

"Like admitting I'm gay, which I'm not, but she doesn't buy it." How could he be gay when he loved ladies so much? Honestly.

Peter gave a little hum of consideration.

"I also washed the dishes this morning, which she didn't appreciate," Stiles went on with a shrug.

"I imagine," Peter replied, before he stood up. "Alright, let's get these planted."

They were both a bit dirty by the time they were done with the flowers. Stiles found he didn't mind, even with the state of his knees and sweaty shirt. He would have to clean up before lunch, for sure.

Peter put the wheelbarrow behind the shed and walked back around, lighting a cigarette as he moved. Stiles was again struck by how handsome he was. So he stared, and he was still staring when Peter looked up.

Stiles fumbled over his words. "Oh--uh--c-can I have one of those?" he tried. Nice save. So smooth.

Peter let out a little laugh, bumping another cig out of his pack and offering it to Stiles. "Don't rat me out," he said, before he handed over his lighter as well.

"I would never," Stiles told him with a grin, lighting the cig and taking a drag. Ah, sweet tobacco. He blew out the first puff and grinned in contentment. He handed the lighter back over, and their hands brushed. 

Stiles didn't shiver. He didn't. 

"So do I come back here after lunch, or?" Stiles asked as he tossed his cigarette butt into the metal can that Peter produced.

"I imagine Mary will have other things for you to do," Peter told him with a shrug. "I leave around this time anyway. It’s too hot to do any groundskeeping in the afternoon."

"Still holding onto that groundskeeping thing, huh?" Stiles asked, smiling when Peter snorted. "So you don't live here?" He gestured toward the shack, which on review looked a little small.

Peter let out a huff. "No," he said, smirking. "I have an apartment in town."

"Oh, cool," Stiles said lamely, because he didn't know what else to say.

Thankfully that was when Mike came jogging over. "Stiles, it's time for lunch--look at your knees, child!" 

Stiles waved a goodbye to Peter as he was pulled away, Mike fussing around him like a mama bird. After washing up so he wasn't as much of a stinky, dirty mess, he went to lunch. He didn't make a scene with the dishes this time, because what Peter said stuck with him. He had pissed Mary off, and working outside for hours had been his punishment. He didn't want to know what else she would do.

That wasn't the only thing about Peter that lingered in his mind though. He kept thinking about his eyes, his muscles and his ass. It had Stiles so confused about himself that he barely paid any attention when he and the other boys were watching sports again. The twins were into it because it was basketball, and they were eagerly explaining how the game was played to Jared. Stiles let his mind wander.

God, did Peter have a nice butt. Stiles was surprised at his own interest. It wasn’t like he’d ever stared at a dude’s butt before… Okay, that wasn’t true. He was captain buttchecker on the lacrosse team, but that was just friendly glances! Though he couldn’t explain away the way he’d stared at Mr Harris’s backside. That guy was a giant piece of shit, but he wore great pants.

It was in the dark while he was lying in bed and he finally admitted it to himself and the room, “Shit, I think I might be into dudes.” 

There wasn’t even a second before Aiden said, “Such revelation.”

“Very surprise,” Ethan added.

“Wow,” Jared deadpanned.

Stiles let out a surprised laugh. “You guys are assholes. I can’t believe you just meme’d me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by our trash king, [Taylorpotato.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorpotato)
> 
> Next up: family therapy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever to write this. -does a jig- Hopefully the next chapter won't take quite as long. (No promises.)

Stiles wasn't sure how it happened, but he found himself enjoying working the land with Peter. It was easy work, usually, because Peter didn't let him use the heavy machinery. Like the chainsaw. Stiles just stood by, watching with wide eyes as Peter turned a tree into pieces. Stiles wished he'd had popcorn.

Together they dragged the branches into a pile, trailing dead leaves as they went. For burning, apparently, and Stiles almost begged to be the one to spray the pile with lighter fluid and set it all a blaze. He wanted to laugh maniacally as it all went up with a _fwoosh_. He grinned like that wasn't totally crazy.

"Mary wants to use the pile for outdoor group," Peter said. He looked like he was fighting laughter, lips tight, as Stiles pouted at him. "I'm sure she'll let you light it if you ask."

"I think I'd rather set myself on fire than ask her for anything," Stiles informed him, crossing his arms. 

"That I can understand." Peter shrugged. "Grab those logs and pile them in the wheelbarrow." He pointed to where the pieces of the tree trunk were scattered around the stump. "I'll get the axe."

"Are we going to chop wood like manly men do?" Stiles asked, hefting the first log into the wheelbarrow.

"We're going to try," Peter told him over his shoulder, walking towards the shack.

Stiles got most of the logs into the wheelbarrow, before he grabbed it by the handles and lifted. He grunted at the weight and kind of waddled toward the shack where Peter was waiting. He dropped the wheelbarrow and looked at his hands, red and sore from the pull of the wood on the handles of the wheelbarrow.

"I'm gonna get blisters," he complained because he liked complaining.

Peter snorted, looking strangely hot with the axe braced across the backs of his shoulders, his wrists hooked over the wooden handle. "Poor you and your delicate skin," Peter replied, before he smiled when Stiles pouted in his direction. He swung the axe off of his shoulders, holding it in one broad hand before he grabbed one of the logs.

"Are you going to make me do all of them?" Stiles asked, subtly looking at Peter's butt as the man placed the log on the stump next to the shack. It was still a very nice butt.

"I'm not quite that much of a taskmaster," Peter said, standing back and swinging the axe over his head to bring it down on the log, which split with fanfare, the two pieces flipping onto the ground.

Stiles applauded the action, and it sounded sarcastic even to his ears. Peter cut those two pieces into four, before he went for a new log, which Stiles helpfully handed over to him.

"So," Stiles started, watching the way Peter's biceps bunched up and how his shirt kept riding up over his hip. "Do you buy into the whole pray away the gay thing?"

Peter stopped, rotating the axe in his hand. "Not really." He looked at Stiles. God, his eyes were such a pretty blue.

"So why are you here?" Stiles asked.

"I have my reasons," Peter replied. That was straight up _dude in a romance novel_ mysterious. Not that he read romance novels. (Okay, he did, but for the plot!)

Stiles didn't pester Peter further, just watched him, which was plenty entertaining in itself. Apparently he had a thing for the rugged types. Whatever kind of type Peter was anyway. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts with a start when Peter poked him with the butt of the axe. Stiles gave him an unimpressed look, taking it, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face at Peter’s amused expression. He was so handsome when he smiled.

"Okay, get ready to be schooled as I bring out my inner lumberjack," Stiles said, getting himself ready to go to town on this log.

"Inner lumberjack, hm?" Peter inquired lightly. 

"You should see my wardrobe. It’s eighty-five percent plaid," Stiles replied with a huff, before he lifted the axe and brought it down with a warcry. The head of the axe embedded itself into the log and stayed there. Stiles stared at it as the soft sound of snickering came from his right. He glared at Peter and the man quickly hid his mouth behind his hand.

“Need some help there, noodle arms?” Peter asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Stiles blew out an offended breath, his cheeks puffing out like an angry hamster. “No, no, I got this,” he said, wiggling the axe to try to dislodge it from the log. “Totally got this, yup,” he went on, wiggling the axe harder. It looked like it was about to come loose, before it and the log just fell off the stump, and Stiles stumbled forward as the axe almost tugged out of his hands. He looked down at it and let out a bit of a laugh. “Okay, maybe I don’t got it.”

Peter snorted. “Here.” He moved closer and took the axe. He put his foot on the log and pulled the axe out, before he put the log back on the stump. There was a sizable dent in it, thank you very much. Peter held the axe out again, and Stiles took it, then Peter moved in close. “You’re losing power in your swing,” he said, pressing up against Stiles’s back to adjust the way he was holding the axe. “Try again.” He moved away.

Stiles wasn’t blushing. He wasn’t. So what if the most physical contact from another person he’d ever had, outside of getting body slammed by Jackson during practice. He could still feel the heat of Peter’s hands on his arms, and his back was scorching. Concentrating on not looking turned on, he swung the axe again, and this time it went straight through the log. Grinning, he looked at Peter. “I did it.”

“I supposed you deserve to wear all that plaid after all.” Peter returned his smile. “Now do it again.”

That was just what Stiles did. He chopped his perky little ass off. He was actually pretty proud of himself at the end, even though his hands were burning like crazy. No one was going to believe that he, captain of laziness and procrastination, was doing such hard work. Without even getting paid!

When the last of the wood was stacked next to the shed, Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the time. “Hm, that didn’t take as long as I thought it would.” He tucked the phone back and looked at Stiles. “You were more helpful than I thought you would be.” The first action that came to Stiles’s head was to stick out his tongue petulantly, which made Peter laugh. “I meant it as a compliment.”

“Didn’t sound like one,” Stiles replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, even so, this means we can just kick back until you have to go to lunch. How would you like a drink?” Peter opened the door to the shack and headed inside, waving Stiles in after him.

“Yes, please,” Stiles said, poking his head into the _mysterious shack_ and frowning when he didn’t find it to be full of spiders and rusty equipment. It was actually a cozy little room with a couple cushy-looking arm chairs in the corner, a small fridge, a bookcase with gardening books, and a desk with a--

“You have a computer!” Stiles blurted out, pointing at it.

Peter straightened up, holding two cans of soda from the fridge. He looked at the computer then back to Stiles. “And you have the ability to state the obvious.” He held out one of the cans in offering. 

Stiles took it, still focusing on the computer as he popped the tab. “Does it have Internet?” He took a few swallows of his drink. It was something lemon-lime, but he was too distracted to care.

“It would be a bit useless for ordering plants and supplies otherwise.” Peter stepped closer. “You want to use it, don’t you?” 

Stiles nodded his head so hard he was like a dashboard bobblehead. “Yes, please, please, please. My Tumblr followers probably think I’m dead. I’m just going to check my email and Facebook and stuff.” He tried to put his hands together in an imploring manner, but it was difficult while holding a drink. “I promise I won’t look up porn.” He pushed out his bottom lip and made a tiny dog whimpering noise.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Fine, go ahead.” He went to sit down in one of the chairs, crossing his ankles and getting comfortable.

Stiles squealed and leapt at the computer. It had been two weeks since he’d had anything more advanced that a corded phone in his hand. Except for his iPod, which died after the first two nights, and he forgot his fucking charger for it. He plopped down in front of the computer, which was sleeping, and shook the mouse. The screen came on and Stiles let out a gleeful sound.

He went to his Tumblr first. He had a few asks in his inbox from people wondering where he was. Usually he did a rant about certain new comics on Wednesdays--Marvel and DC because he was versatile--and quite a few of his followers were there just for those. He wanted to scroll his dash to see what everyone was up to and complaining about, but he knew that would take forever. So he just opened up a new text post.

_Hey, guys, it’s Stiles. Good news, I’m not dead! Though I kind of wish I were. I’m at camp, otherwise known as hell, and they don’t allow us to have phones or computers or any of the good stuff. I’m only online now because I’m being sneaky. I’ll be home in four weeks, my babies, so don’t you worry about me! Peace!_

Stiles sat back, letting out a pleased sigh. He opened up Facebook and starting scrolling through his feed, just to see what his friends were doing in his absence. There wasn’t much to see. Then he heard the sound of a lighter flicking to life behind him and looked over to see Peter with a cigarette in his mouth, face illuminated orange by the fire.

“Aw man, can I get one of those?” he asked, reaching in Peter’s direction with a grabby hand.

Peter snorted and just handed him the one he’d had between his lips, not even looking up from the book in his lap. Stiles took it, blinking owlishly, before he put it between his lips and took a drag. It was silly to think he could taste Peter, like it was a kiss, but it made his stomach all fluttery anyway. He let out the hot smoke and turned back to the computer. 

It felt like barely a second later when there was the sound of a closing book and Peter’s soft groan as he stood up. “Okay, kid, time for you to get back.” 

“Aww,” Stiles whined, melting in the chair unhappily. “Not cool.”

Peter let out a soft huff of a laugh, grabbing the back of the chair and turning it around. He was smiling, obviously amused by Stiles’s boneless state. “If we have time tomorrow, you can use the computer again.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, perking up.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded.

“I must be boring to hang out with,” Stiles said, standing. “All I do is sit there and ignore everything else.”

“You’re not that bad.” Peter gave a half a shrug, leading Stiles out of the shack. “I don’t mind the silence.” He gave Stiles a restrained smile. “Not that you’re silent.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles asked, squinting at Peter.

“You mumble quite a bit.”

“Do not!” 

“Do too.” Peter let his smile take over his face. “It’s alright, Stiles. It’s… charming.”

Was Stiles blushing? Yeah, he was blushing. He tore his eyes away from Peter. “Well, better get to lunch, haha, bye.” He didn’t run, but he did power walk.

* * *

“So tomorrow is family therapy day,” Mary told the kids at lunch.

“Are our parents going to be here?” Heather asked, bright eyed.

“Yes, they will,” Mary replied, nodding. “We will be going over some sensitive subjects, so it will be nice to have your parents here for support.”

Stiles was stoked about seeing his dad. It might have been a bit sad, but he missed those tight bear hugs, the ones that enveloped him and made him feel safe. He wanted a nice big hug when he saw his old man. He was probably going to stuff his face into John’s chest and snuffle.

When lunch ended, Stiles stood up and started grabbing plates.

Mary sneered at him. “Stiles, that is not your job. It is a woman’s duty to clean up after everyone.” 

Stiles gave her his best bitch face. “You’re honestly saying that you’re going to make these girls cook and clean, while we just sit here on our asses like useless lumps? I know you think women should be subservient and shit, and that’s gross, but how is a dude supposed to take care of himself if he doesn’t know how to wash a dish?”

Mary’s mouth worked a moment, before her mouth shut with a click of her teeth. She straightened up. “Fine, if that’s how you want it. Cleaning the dishes will now be the job of the boys. _All_ of the boys.” She snapped her fingers at Aiden, Ethan and Jared. “Get to it.”

Stiles’s eyes went wide. “That’s not--”

“Come along, girls.” Mary sashayed out of the room and the girls followed after her. All three of them looked worried, almost guilty, as they left.

Heaving a deep sigh, Stiles looked at the other boys, who were starting to gather dishes. “I’m sorry, guys. I was just being a stubborn asshole. I didn’t think she’d punish you guys for it.” 

“It’s okay.” Jared piled all the silverware on one plate. “You have a point though.”

“Yeah, it’s not fair that she makes the girls do all the chores,” Aiden said as he picked up the glasses. “She’s kind of a total bitch.”

Ethan elbowed his brother half-heartedly. “To be honest, we were all thinking about doing the same thing as you, but you’re… braver than us.”

A soft smile touched Stiles’s lips. “I don’t know about braver. Dumber, for sure.”

Ethan snorted. “That too.”

Stiles laughed, picking up everything he could carry and then leading the others into the kitchen. Washing everything was going to take a lot less time with the four of them.

* * *

The next day, Stiles woke up to the most blistered hands in creation. They didn’t hurt, but there were many sacs of fluid under his skin. He had to show Peter, because it was his fault. He was careful with his hands at breakfast and while drying dishes. Then he jogged outside and toward the shack. He could see Peter standing there, smoking a cigarette and focusing on his phone.

“Lookit!” Stiles blurted as he got close enough, holding out his hands, palms up, for Peter to see.

Peter put his phone away and cupped the backs of Stiles’s hands, looking at the damage. Stiles’s face went hot. He could smell Peter’s aftershave so close, and it was nice, subtle.

“Is the most vigorous thing you do with your hands typing?” Peter kept a hold on one of Stiles’s wrists to pull him into the cabin.

Stiles snorted. “I play lacrosse too. It’s pretty vigorous too. We use gloves though.” His wrist felt so warm with Peter’s hand around it. Peter’s skin was a bit rough, and Stiles kind of wanted it all over him. He watched Peter pull a box out of the desk. Oh, a first aid kit.

“You know, that was not the answer I’d expect from a teenage boy,” Peter said lightly, releasing Stiles so he could open the box. He dug around in it a moment and produced a needle.

Blinking in confusion, Stiles watched him and wondered what he meant. It took him a minute, but he flushed right to the tips of his ears when he understood. “Pervert,” he accused, and Peter smiled at him. “I use lotion for that.”

Peter’s eyebrow went up and a playful smirk quirked his lips, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he dug out his lighter and held the needle over the flame until it went hot red, sterilizing it. Then he took Stiles’s hand again. Stiles made a soft noise, and Peter gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “This won’t hurt.” He stabbed one of the blisters. Clear liquid trickled out, and Peter mopped it up with a cotton ball.

He was right. That didn’t hurt at all.

Peter repeated the treatment on all of the blisters, of which there were nine, leaving sad little patches of detached skin. He rubbed a bit of triple antibiotic over the blisters, before he bandaged them with moleskin. “There,” he murmured, rubbing his thumbs lightly over Stiles’s palms.

“Thanks,” Stiles softly, feeling the weight of the quiet room. He looked at Peter’s face, finding him gazing back.Stiles felt like going on like one of those romance novels about Peter’s eyes, so blue and bright. But he just broke the look and cleared his throat. “So, like, since my hands are all bandaged up, I guess I can’t do any yard work, huh?”

“Trying to get out of it so you can get on the computer?” Peter asked, and yeah, that was it completely. “You could just wear gloves.” There was a smile in his voice.

Stiles turned the most pitiful face toward Peter, pushing out his bottom lip. 

Peter stared at him a long moment, before he sighed and rolled his eyes up. “Fine, you can use the computer while I work.”

“Yay!” Stiles squealed, dancing over to the computer, ready for some serious Tumblr time.

Peter left him for a while and Stiles tried to navigate his dash without spoiling himself on the latest comics. When Peter came back, he was kind of sweaty, a dark V coloring his shirt around the collar. He drew the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe away the moisture beaded there. Then he headed to the fridge.

"You look hot," is what left Stiles’s mouth, and Peter lifted a brow at him. Stiles immediately back pedaled as he realized his error. "I mean! Uh! Temperature wise, y'know? Like it's hot outside. Or something." Stiles's face burned.

Peter’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile. "It is indeed rather hot outside.”

Stiles cleared his throat and looked at the computer clock. "Man, is it that time already?" He didn't want to leave the comforting embrace of Tumblr. "Uuugh." He exited out of his tabs and stood up. "At least I get to see my dad today."

"Is it family therapy day already?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, before he scrubbed his hand through his hair. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yes, and be prepared to work this time," Peter told him with a snort.

Stiles stuck out his tongue as he left the shack, because he was classy like that.

* * *

When Stiles and the other boys walked into the group room after washing the lunch dishes, Stiles’s eyes zeroed in on his father, who was standing awkwardly by the window. “Dad!” Stiles all but shouted, bouncing over to him and throwing his arms around his neck, while not caring that people were glancing over.

John laughed, hugging Stiles around the middle tightly--yeah, that was the dad hug. “Hello, kiddo,” he in a rumbly voice, running one broad hand between Stiles’s shoulders. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Stiles started to sniffle. Oh no, he was going to cry. He stepped back and blinked a couple times. “Have you been neglecting your diet without me around, old man?” He gave his father a friendly punch to the shoulder.

“Of course, burgers and greasy fries three times a day.” John’s lips twitched into a half smile. Then he spotted Stiles’s hands and lifted them up. “What happened here? Are they letting you play with knives?” 

Stiles laughed, flexing his fingers as much as he could with the bandages. “Nah, I’ve been doing yard work, and I got some blisters.”

John gave Stiles a flat look, one eyebrow rising. “Yard work? You who stays up at all hours of the night on the internet and can barely drag your ass out of bed for school? You who is allergic to the sun?”

“Oh, haha, you’re so funny. You should have gone into stand-up instead of law enforcement,” Stiles answered in the most deadpan voice he could muster. He was so happy to see his dad that he could have cuddled the shit out of him.

But that was when Mary, the ruiner of all fun, came into the room and instructed everyone to take a seat. Stiles and John sat by the window, with Heather and her parents on one side and Jared and his parents on the other. Heather looked really nervous, so Stiles nudged her arm with his elbow, giving her a comforting smile. She tried to smile back, but it fell flat.

“Hello, parents, thank you for joining us today. We really appreciate it,” Mary chirped, sitting at the head of the room in her stupid throne chair. “Today we are going to address the root of your child’s disorder, the triggering factor that turned them down the road of sinful behavior.”

Stiles made a face, unable to help himself.

“Let’s start here.” Mary pointed her pen toward the twins, where they were sitting with their parents. “Ethan--”

“Aiden,” the twin said, looking like he was rolling his eyes so hard on the inside.

“Right, yes, dear, Aiden. We’ll start with you. Tell us what the root of your homosexuality is. When did you notice that you weren’t like everybody else?” Mary asked, before she poised her pen over the notepad in her hand.

Aiden looked deeply unimpressed and maybe a bit insulted at the accusation that he wasn’t like everyone else. “I don’t know,” he finally said. He crossed his arms and leaned back. “I always thought I was pretty normal. You know, until people started to tell me I was gay.”

Ethan cut in, looking annoyed. “Just because you’re straight doesn’t mean you’re more normal.”

Aiden looked at his brother. “What? No, that’s not what I meant.” He touched Ethan’s arm, but Ethan shrugged him off. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms again. “I don’t know what my stupid root is.”

“Take a moment to think about it,” Mary said, leaning over to give Aiden’s knee a consoling but ultimately condescending pat. “Ethan, what about you?”

Ethan sighed heavily, copying his brother’s posture. “I guess, I’m… just more interested in watching the guys undress in the locker room than trying to get a girl take off her shirt.” He pursed his lips.

“You’ve been spending too much time with that boy, Danny,” Ethan’s mother said, sounding worried instead of accusatory.

“Danny’s my friend,” Ethan complained.

“Okay, so, interest in the male figure and someone named Danny,” Mary muttered, writing on her notepad. “That’s good. It’s important to identify the triggers in order to relearn how to react to them. It’s normal for boys to undress in front of each other, but it’s not normal for you to find enjoyment in it.”

Ethan looked like he wanted to dispute the word ‘normal’ again, but he just stayed silent.

“Moving on.” Mary turned toward Jared, who looked frankly like he was going to throw up. 

When it was Stiles’s turn, he was prepared. “I just watched a lot of porn way too young,” he said when prompted. Next to him, John covered his face with his hand. “Seriously, buff dudes and penises everywhere.”

Mary looked like she wanted to bop Stiles on the nose with her notepad, but instead she just moved on. 

Heather didn’t have an answer, and she looked ready to cry. Her father looked sympathetic, rubbing her back and telling her it was going to be okay, while her mother looked like she had a giant stick up her ass and like this was all a waste of time. And money.

Emily admitted softly that her root was cheerleaders. She was far more comfortable with her squad than the players on the field. “I didn’t know that hugging my friends so much was gay,” she added, looking down at her hands. “I thought everyone did it.”

“Good, good,” Mary said, writing. Then she looked to Caitlin.

“I just think girls are great, you know? So much better than guys.” She glanced at Emily and then quickly away, her fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “Nothing really triggered it. I’ve always been this way.”

“There is always a root to the problem,” Mary told her. “No one is born gay. It’s something that happens to you.” 

Stiles couldn’t help himself. “Do you have a degree in psychology? Or are you just making this shit up as you go along?”

“Stiles--” his dad tried to say.

“No, I’m serious,” Stiles went on, looking at Mary, who had a hard set to her jaw. “Can you possibly back up what you’re saying? And not with medical articles written in the seventies. Times change, lady.”

Mary gazed at him a moment, before she sighed through her nose. “Stiles, go back to the boy’s cabin. Mr Stilinski, thank you for coming, but I don’t think your son is ready for family therapy yet. I will contact you when he is. Mike will show you out.”

Heaving a sigh, Stiles stood up and walked out of the room with his father. Mike met through in the entryway, steering them toward the front door. On the porch, Stiles stopped and caught his father’s shirt. “Can I say goodbye?” he asked Mike, who nodded and headed toward all the cars in front of the house.

Stiles swallowed and looked at his father. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you.”

John gave him a sad smile. “I thought you were going to give this place a chance, kiddo?”

“I have, I am,” Stiles insisted, though he had to admit that he wasn’t as committed as he could be. “It’s just… hard. You know how stubborn I am.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” John sighed, looking away with… disappointment on his face. 

Stiles could have cried right there. “I’ll try harder,” he said in a soft voice.

John pulled him into a hug. “Okay, bud. You do that.” Then he pulled away and walked down the steps toward the cars. 

Stiles never felt so cold.

* * *

"You're quiet," Peter said the next day as he changed the moleskin bandages on Stiles's hands. When Stiles didn't say anything, he let Stiles’s hands drop. "How was seeing your father?"

"Not great," Stiles murmured back, eyes on the floor. "I snapped at Mary and embarrassed him. He's not exactly thrilled with me right now. He told me to make an effort to be open-minded, but I can't keep my big mouth shut."

"Want my advice?"

Stiles looked up. "Is this where you tell me to be quiet and obedient?" He had tried that, and it hadn't lasted at all.

"Not quite," Peter replied, a smirk touching his lips. "This is where I tell you to fake it."

Stiles blinked. "Really?"

"Really. Mary wants you to eat up all her bullshit like it's candy. It’s not hard to pretend like you're being converted, like you've seen the light and don't want to be a deviant anymore. Just pretend that it's her word that is getting you there, and you'll wrap her around your finger." Peter shrugged. "I'm not going to pretend I know much about discovering sexuality, but I know plenty about deception. Mary is easy to lie to, because she latches onto what she likes to hear."

Stiles was actually a little impressed. Why hadn’t he thought of that? "Thanks, dude," he, eyes a bit wide as he plotted his deceit. He may not be the perfect pupil, but he could certainly pretend to be. He did it all the time at school.

* * *

After lunch, the kids were led to a new room that had several chairs facing an older TV. Mary instructed them to sit down. "Now that you have all discovered the root of your depravity, it's time to move on to the next step in the program. We will be shining a light on appropriate sexual urges and demystifying the opposite sex."

She picked up a DVD and put it into the player. (Stiles was impressed that it wasn't VHS.) The screen came on with the title Sex Education 101. Then Mary turned off the lights.

"You're not teaching abstinence?" Stiles asked, trying not to sound sarcastic while using his innocent face.

Mary patted his hand. "I encourage everyone to embrace their natural urges, with protection and information, of course." She sat down at the back of the room, which was better than her looming.

The video started, the content pretty straight forward. This is a man, and he has a penis. This is a woman, and she has a vagina. This is what those parts do. It was the least sexy thing that Stiles had ever seen.

Heather made a tiny noise next to him, and Stiles looked at her. She was grimacing, her face pinched, and she looked ridiculously uncomfortable. She looked down at her hands, which were clasped together.

“You okay?” Stiles breathed to her, and she quickly shook her head.

Stiles was about to say something else when there was a soft beeping behind him. He looked back to find Mary looking at her phone, before she got up and quietly left the room. He looked back to Heather and found her trembling. He went to touch her arm, to offer her some sort of comfort, but she was up like a shot and hurried from the room, leaving the door gaping behind her. 

Stiles gazed after her a moment, before he looked back and found everyone staring at him. “What?”

“What did you do?” Emily asked in a hushed voice, her frown mirrored on everyone else’s face.

“Nothing!” Stiles whisper-yelled. “Something freaked her out.”

“Go find out what,” Caitlin hissed at him.

Stiles pressed his lips together, before he got up and marched out of the room. He spotted Mary standing at one end of the hallway, her back to him as she chatted on her phone, so he went the opposite way. It led him outside onto the front porch, where he found Heather sitting on the step, huddled in on herself. As Stiles moved closer, he could hear her soft, choked sobs.

“Heather?” he asked quietly.

She jolted a little before looking at him, face red with moisture clinging to her eyelashes. She sniffed and scrubbed at her face with her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, tucking in against her knees again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he hurried to assure her, moving to sit next to her on the steps, not too close. “Is--did I do something?” He pulled his knees up to his chest, clutching at them even when he wanted to put his arms around Heather and comfort her.

“No,” she replied, sniffing. “It’s not you. I just--I just realized how much of a freak I am.”

Stiles was promptly lost. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t like girls.”.

Stiles waited a second, but she didn’t say anything else. “You’re not a freak if you’re straight, Hea--”

“No, no, I don’t like boys either!” she whimpered, looking at him with her eyes wide and watery. “I have never had a boyfriend, so my dad and stepmom think I’m a lesbian, but I don’t like girls either! And-and the thought of ever having sex makes me want to puke!”

“Oh,” Stiles replied. “You’re not a freak,” he tried, but he quickly lost steam. “You’re just… different.”

Heather’s bottom lip wibbled, and fresh tears poured down her face. “I don’t want to be different!” she cried, covering her face. “I want to be normal! I don’t want to be _broken!_ ”

“Shit, sorry.” Stiles bit his lip, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “I’m an idiot, and I say stupid things. Can-can I hug you? I’m good at that.”

Heather huffed out a noise that sounded almost like a laugh, and she nodded, straightening up a bit. Stiles scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her. “You’re not a freak,” he said into her hair, then added, “You’re not broken.” He didn’t have any real advice for her. All he could do was hold her and let her cry.

After a minute or so, she calmed down, leaning more heavily into his embrace. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he assured her. He had the power of internet now, and its resources were infinite. If anything, he could ask his Tumblr followers. They were a smart bunch.

“Now what’s this?” came a voice from the door, and they looked over to find Mary standing in the doorway. She had a smile on her face. “Did you two sneak off for a little one on one time?”

Stiles felt the urge to projectile vomit on her ala The Exorcist, but instead he swallowed that down and put on his fakest smile. “Yesh, we just--” He looked at Heather. “--wanted to get to know each other a little more.” He hugged Heather closer as he said that, rubbing between her shoulders as she tried to control her sniffles.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely?” Mary’s smile just grew, before she turned back toward the inside of the house. “Take a couple more minutes, darlings, then please join us for the next video.” She went back in.

Heather made a small sound. “Oh God, I don’t think I can handle another video,” she said, her voice tight.

“As dumb as it sounds, you can totally hold my hand and squeeze the shit out of it when you feel sick,” Stiles offered, bumping his head against Heather’s lightly.

Heather laughed, and that was progress. Together they got up and went back inside.

* * *

At first Stiles wasn’t sure how to look up any information for Heather. How did one word a search about someone who wasn’t attracted to anyone? Apparently just like that, because the first result he got was a definition of asexuality. After he cleared it with Peter, he printed off some info that detailed the different kinds of asexual, including stuff about people who didn’t want to have sex but did like dating. He added in some information about demisexualuals and demiromantics too.

Peter made it to the printer first. “Asexuality?” he asked, looking at the papers.

“It’s for Heather,” Stiles found himself immediately saying, because he wanted Peter know he definitely didn’t have a problem with attraction himself.

Peter gave him a smirk. “I see.”

When Stiles gave Heather the papers, she clutched them to her chest and thanked him, smiling in a way that didn’t look empty for the first time since he’d met her.

* * *

A week later, Stiles’s hands were healed, so it was back to the grind. Not that working with Peter was at all taxing. It was fun, in a way, and the company wasn’t bad. The only thing he hated was the weather. It was getting hotter as summer approached, and Stiles was allergic to heat in general, so he was miserable.

Peter didn’t seem to be having that much of a fun time with it either. At one point he just let out a curse and pulled his shirt over his head, tucking the end of it into his back pocket. Then he went back to digging the hole for the new small tree like it was perfectly normal.

Stiles stared. He didn’t even give a fuck that he was being obvious, because wow, look at those muscles. Apparently chest hair was a thing for him too, because he wanted to run his fingers through that light carpet on Peter’s front. He also wanted to touch his nipples, maybe lick them a bit. He probably tasted like salt at the moment. His back muscles, wow.

“Stiles.”

Stiles jerked out of his thoughts, blinking and focusing on Peter’s face instead of his sexy body. “Yeah?” he croaked, before he cleared his throat. Oh god, did he have a hard on? He hoped it wasn’t terribly obvious.

Peter had this smug look on his face, so yeah, he knew what was happening in Stiles’s brain and pants. “Bring the sapling over.” He gestured to the little tree that Stiles was standing next to.

“Right, yeah,” Stiles said, grabbing the tree by its narrow trunk and hauling it over. He plopped it into the hole, and Peter began to bury it. “Is that the last thing we have to do today?” he asked, trying to look anywhere but at Peter’s nipples. He was not succeeding.

“Yes.” Peter somehow managed to stuff a lot of amusement into one word.

Thank goodness. He didn’t know if he could handle Peter shirtless for much longer. God, that happy trail!

They packed up the equipment and headed back to the shack, and Peter stood just outside the door, lighting a cig and taking a deep breath of it. He looked like sin when he let the smoke just seep out between his parted lips.

“C-can I have one?” Stiles asked, squeaking.

Peter hummed, blowing out a ring of smoke. “I don’t know.”

“What? Why? You’ve been giving them to me for like two weeks.”

“I don’t have many left, so they’re getting more valuable.” Peter looked at his pack. There were only two cigarettes left. “You might have to work for it.”

Stiles felt a heat creep across his face that had nothing to do with the sun. “Doing what?”

Peter gave him the sexiest, most devilish smile. “Oh, I could think of a few things.”

That flush was up to the tips of Stiles’s ears now. “Fuck off,” he huffed, turning and heading back to the house. He made it about three steps before he stopped. Wasn’t this what he wanted? He turned and walked up to Peter again, keeping his eyes elsewhere, because if he looked at Peter, he might just get dizzy from all the blood in his head and faint. “Like… like what?” he asked softly.

Peter leaned in, his breath fanning out across Stiles’s cheek. “I wouldn’t mind if you showed me that wood you’re trying to hide,” he said in a murmur kind of like a purr. Stiles shivered. “I bet you haven’t had someone that really knows what they’re doing sucking you off, have you?”

Stiles let out a whine. “N-no, never.”

“I would change that. I could do wonderful things between your thighs,” Peter said, scratching Stiles’s cheek with the edges of his goatee, which made Stiles gasp softly.

“I…” Stiles tried, his brain going into full spaz mode. “I don’t…” Oh this was bad, but oh so good. Mostly bad. Danger, danger, tenting pants definitely now.

But then Peter moved away with a laugh. “I’m just fucking with you, kid,” he said, before he held out a cig to Stiles.

Stiles took it, eyes a bit wide, before he accepted the lighter too. He lit the cig then puffed at it like he was praying for lung cancer, finishing it in record time. “I must go,” he blurted, before he scampered off toward the cabins. He ran by Mike on his way there. “Gonna wash up before lunch!” he told him hurriedly, not even stopping.

When he got his clothes off and went into the shower, his dick was like a rigid weapon between his legs. He almost didn’t want to touch it, knowing he was probably just going to immediately explode all over the place. He forced himself to calm down, to wash the dirt from his hands and body, taking steadying breaths.

He started to touch himself once he felt like he wasn’t going to go off instantly. He ran his fingers over his neck, his chest, closing his eyes and imagining it was Peter’s rough hands caressing his nipples. He dragged his hands down, and he could almost feel Peter pressing up against his back, a solid weight. When he finally gripped his dick, it was with a sharp gasp. 

It was a real pity that Peter had only been messing him, because Stiles probably would have let him do anything.

When Stiles came, he bit his lip to keep his cry in, his brain flooding with all the good chemicals. He stumbled a little, his legs, ready to let him fall, and he leaned into the shower wall, panting. With the hot water beating down onto him, he just grinned.

If he’d had any doubt about liking men, now he didn’t. He was definitely into Peter. It was kind of nice to think that with definity. He wanted to see what happened next with this.

But there was no way he could have predicted what was in store later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! -dances around- How do you like that last sentence? :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this one took forever. xD I won't even say I had a writing block. I just fucked about for like a month. It's also a _long one_. Once I got started writing, I just went on and on. Anyway, this is the conclusion, and I hope you like it.  <3

Stiles had been dreaming about ponies made of waffles, or something equally ridiculous, when a hand on his mouth made his eyes pop open. He let out a muffled kind of scream, hastily scanning the darkness until he saw Peter's face hovering over him, finger to his lips as he softly shushed him. Stiles blinked up at him, getting increasingly more confused.

Peter smiled, and it was a devious twist to his lips. "Get up. Get dressed. We're going out." The released Stiles’s mouth and moved away.

Stiles sat up, watching Peter head out the door, the only light on him being the moon. There was plenty to wax poetic about that, be he refrained, instead looking over to where Ethan and Aiden were standing on either side of Jared's bed and looming over him as he stared up at them, blanket up to his chin.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," Aiden promised, and Jared rapidly shook his head.

Ethan nudged Jared's shoulder. "You know you want to." To that, Jared shook his head again and hid under the covers.

Ethan and Aiden looked at each other, before they murmured _whatever_ in unison. They just headed outside, following Peter.

Stiles hurriedly got up, kicking away the covers and hopping to his feet, before he dragged his duffle bag out from under his bed. He quickly changed out of the stuffy pajamas he'd been provided and into his actual clothes. After tugging on his shoes, he hurried out into the night. 

Peter and the others were standing by a sleek black SUV. Caitlin and Emily were joining them, but Heather was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she had been afraid to venture out like Jared, or maybe it just wasn't her thing. Either way, Stiles was a little sad that he wasn't going on this little adventure with his new friend.

"Shotgun!" he whisper-shouted as he jogged up to everyone, grinning as everybody but Peter grumbled in annoyance. They all piled into the car, and Stiles had a look at the clock. It was almost eleven at night. Bed checks were at nine and five, so they had plenty of time for whatever Peter had planned.

They drove for a while, and Stiles didn't recognize their surroundings. They entered an area that looked a bit seedy, like he'd be clutching his wallet if he were walking through it. Then they pulled up to a building, a bar by the looks of the bouncer and the neon orange sign spelling out the establishment's name.

"Does that say Cocksucker?" Caitlin asked after a long moment of staring.

"It does," Peter replied with a laugh, before he got out of the car. The kids hurried after him, and Peter's nod to the doorman had them waltzing right in. 

So Stiles had never been in a bar before, let alone a gay bar. He kind of expected it to be like a gay club, which he'd seen on TV, but that had a lot more disco balls, flashing lights and music that went _uns uns uns._ This place was a lot less frightening. It was just a simple place with a long bar up against one side, two pool tables, a jukebox playing classic rock, a dance floor and some booths and tables with chairs.

Stiles huddled with the others like terrified gazelle as Peter greeted some other people, smiling and laughing. He was talking to two women, one tall with dark skin, holding hands with a smaller woman with fair skin. There was also a man, huge with a broad grin. Then Peter turned and gestured the kids forward. They shuffled over to him in herd formation.

"Guys, these are the poor kids from True Directions." Peter indicated to each of them, listing off their names. "And Stiles." He gave him a smile and squeezed his shoulder, and Stiles felt like the favorite, which made him grin wide. Peter moved on, gesturing to the women. "This is Kali and Jennifer, resident lesbians. And Ennis, the biggest power bottom you will ever meet."

"Hey!" Ennis barked as the women laughed loudly. He didn't seem that upset though, if the corners of his mouth twitching up were anything to go by. 

"Anyway," Peter went on, waving a hand. "These guys can tell you what being gay is all about much better than Mary can. They can also tell you that it's not a bad thing. Carry on." Then he headed for the bar.

The other kids looked up at Kali, Jennifer and Ennis like they held the secrets of the universe, but Stiles was more interested in the way Peter's pants clung to his ass now that he was paying attention. He had a feeling that Peter could tell him, maybe even show him, what being attracted to the same sex was all about. He moved over to the bar too.

"So this is what you do?" Stiles asked, sidling up to Peter’s side and plopping onto a barstool. Peter looked at him as the bartender poured him a shot.

"What do I do?" Peter countered with a smile, picking up the glass.

"You said you had your reasons for working at True Directions. Is this it?" Stiles nudged Peter’s calf with his foot. 

Peter just smiled wider and took his shot.

"He likes to be praised," the bartender cut in, and Stiles looked at him. "He pretends to be a hero in the night, but mostly he wants to be adored." He smiled, showing off kind of adorable bunny teeth. "Isn't that right, Peter?"

Peter put his glass back on the bartop and pointed to it. “Stiles, this is Derek, my nephew,” he said as watched Derek fill up the shot glass. “Derek, this is Stiles.”

Derek put down the bottle and offered Stiles his hand. “Hey.” He smiled as Stiles shook his hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” Stiles babbled, looking between them and picking out the characteristics they shared. It was kind of uncanny now that he knew. “So you must have all kinds of embarrassing stories, don’t you?

Derek grinned. “Well, this one time at Thanksgiving--”

“Just give the boy a drink, will you?” Peter cut in, frowning at the two of them. 

“You’re fun when you’re huffy,” Derek all but sang, and Peter just did this little snarl that was kind of hot. Derek just winked at Stiles, who was grinning ear to ear. “What can I get you, Stiles?” 

“Uh, rum and Coke, if you wouldn’t mind, barkeep, sir?” Stiles suggested, still all smiles as he drummed his hands on the bartop.

“Mm, how about a Shirley Temple?” Derek replied, turning to make it.

“Oh, okay, you’re the expert.” Stiles shrugged. Honestly that sounded like a girly drink, but it was probably a well known secret that girly drinks tasted the best. What Derek set before him was definitely pink, complete with a straw and a cherry. He picked it up and took a sip. “Mm, you can’t even taste the alcohol.”

Derek chuckled and went to take care of other customers.

Stiles continued to slurp down his drink, turning towards Peter, who was watching him. “What? It’s tasty.”

“Shirley Temples don’t have alcohol, Stiles,” Peter told him, looking deeply amused about this fact.

“Oh.” Stiles looked down at his drink, before he just shrugged and sucked at the straw again. He blinked when he realized that Peter was watching his mouth.

“You should probably buy that straw a dinner first before you treat it that way.”

Stiles choked, and he coughed into his hand and his other hand tried to put the glass down without breaking it. No one had ever commented on his straw sucking technique before… God, that sounded so damn dirty in his head. He could feel his face heating up so fast, and he coughed some more, wheezing a bit.

Peter looked as amused as he was alarmed. “Try not to die, please.” He reached over and patted Stiles on the shoulder. Stiles could feel the heat of his skin through his two layers of shirts, and the way Peter grazed under his jawline with his thumb made him shiver. 

“I’ll try,” Stiles squeaked, before he sat up straight again when Peter drew back his hand. He looked to his glass. “Ooh, a cherry.” He picked it up and tried to dig out said cherry. “So do you have any life advice to offer?” he asked, fingers shifting around in the ice. 

“Hm?” 

“You know, you brought us here--come to me, cherry--to talk to people who are cool with being in the lifestyle. I assume you are too, so tell me what it’s like. Got you, you little bastard, haha!” He popped the cherry into his mouth, pleased with the burst of sweet across his tongue.

Peter snorted, tipping his empty shot glass back and forth. “For one thing, queer people don’t call it a ‘lifestyle.’ That’s what straight people call it, because some of them think it’s a choice.” He turned on the stool toward Stiles, their knees bumping. “BDSM is a lifestyle, being gay isn't. You can’t help who you want to hold hands with and then bang later.”

“Thank you, sensei,” Stiles replied with a roll of his eyes. “You have changed my life.”

“Haven’t I?” Peter purred back.

There went the blushing again. Stiles shoved a piece of ice in his mouth to give it something to do, as opposed to hanging open. Peter didn’t know how right he was, surely. Because beyond the occasional glancing at a butt, Stiles hadn’t given any thought to being attracted to a dude. And then there was Peter, whom he’s fantasized about getting all up on. He wanted Peter’s fingers and other things in all his holes.

A man sashayed right over to Stiles and leaned in close. “Hey, cutie, wanna dance?” he asked, and he had some rancid beer breath. 

He was handsome though, and Stiles had never been hit on before, so he was honestly considering saying yes once he remembered how to form words, but Peter beat him to it. “Go victimize someone else, please.” He reached over to push the man away a bit, making him pout.

“Aw, already called dibs, Peter?” the man huffed, before he grinned broadly. “Does he know you like to be called ‘Daddy’ in the sack?”

Peter’s eyebrow twitched up. “He does now.”

Stiles stared at Peter with wide eyes as the guy went to bother someone else.

“Anyway,” Peter went on, holding out the word. “If you like boys, that’s fine. If you like girls, that’s also just swell. If you like both, look forward to having the monogamy talk, because it still counts as cheating if it’s with someone who is a different gender from your partner.”

Stiles had to smile at that. “Are you speaking from personal experience?” 

“Yes, but only because I flirt with everyone, whether I'm tied down or not.” 

Well, that information didn’t make Stiles happy at all. “Are you now?” he asked, and Peter lifted his brows at him. “Tied down, I mean.”

Peter sat up straight, shaking his head. “No, I’m not.” Then he winked at Stiles before looking towards the other kids.

Stiles would have thrown confetti if he’d had it. He felt like he actually had a chance with this man. He ate a bit more ice as he tried to figure out how to actually make a move. His usual game was to linger around for years and hope to be noticed. It hadn’t really gotten him anywhere yet.

But then Peter was standing, and Stiles was ready for him to walk off and leave him alone, only that Peter was extending a hand to him and saying, “Dance with me.” Stiles blinked his eyes owlishly at him in confusion. “I love this song. C’mon.” He wiggled his fingers at Stiles.

With his eyes still huge, Stiles slowly put down his glass and laid his hand in Peter's. He was pulled out onto the dance floor, where other couples were pressing in close and swaying to the music. _“Way over yonder, that’s where I’m bound,”_ the singer crooned, and Stiles didn’t recognize the song, but he didn’t give a crap because he was being pulled against Peter’s body.

 _“I know when I get there, the first thing I’ll see is the sun shining golden, shining right down on me,”_ the song went on, and Stiles was so close to Peter that he could smell his aftershave and the whiskey on his breath. _“The trouble’s gonna lose me, worry leave me behind.”_ Peter’s hand was a comfortable weight on his lower back, and Stiles’s eyelids fluttered shut as he laid his cheek on Peter’s shoulder. _“And I’ll stand up proudly in a true peace of mind.”_

Stiles curled his fingers against Peter’s shoulder, catching a little bit of his shirt, and smiled as Peter’s breath fanned out across his neck. _“Talkin’ ‘bout a, talking ‘bout a way over yonder is a place I have seen.”_ Stiles let out a shuddering sigh as Peter touched his nose to Stiles’s cheek. _“It’s a garden of wisdom from some long ago dream.”_

Stiles lost himself in the slow steps and the sway of their hips. The music curled around them like a comforting blanket, and Stiles felt comfortable in his own skin for the first time since he’d been sent off. _“Maybe tomorrow I’ll find my way to the land where the honey runs in rivers each day.”_ He slowly opened his eyes and found Peter looking at him. 

_“And the sweet tastin’ good life is so easily found.”_ Stiles parted his lips, looking down at Peter’s mouth then back up to his gorgeous blue eyes. _“Way over yonder, that’s where I’m bound.”_ His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and Peter tracked the movement, before his hand on Stiles’s back pulled him closer. _“Way over yonder, that’s where I’m bound.”_

As the music trailed off, Stiles let out a shuddering breath before his lips were pressed to Peter’s, warm and just a little bit chapped, but just enough to add to the feeling. It was a light kiss, just a brush of the lips really, and Stiles let out a little noise as the sound of a piano drifted on the air.

“Want to keep dancing?” Peter asked, giving him one of those soft smiles that made Stiles’s knees like goop.

Stiles nodded. “But I want to do something else first.” He grabbed Peter’s head and pulled him into a fierce kiss, because for once in his life, he had the guts to go after what he wanted. Warmth flooded his body as Peter let out a surprised noise, and he felt so victorious for a moment before immediately melting as Peter licked into his mouth. 

Everything went a bit fast after that. The music was still going, but they didn’t move. Stiles had his arms around Peter’s neck, and Peter had his hands on Stiles’s ass, which was just awesome. He kissed until his lungs started to complain, and he kept on kissing just a bit more. When they broke apart, Stiles was glad that Peter was breathing hard too. He grinned widely, bumping his nose against Peter’s.

Peter laughed, before he took Stiles’s hands as a new song started up. There was the jaunty beat of drums and a plucking of a guitar, and Peter started to move his hips. _“People are talkin’, talkin’ ‘bout people.”_ Stiles stared, standing perfectly still as he was struck dumb. _“I hear them whisper, you won’t believe it. They think we’re lovers kept under cover.”_

Moving in closer, Peter took hold of Stiles’s hips, pushing them left and right in time with the beat, before Stiles got the message. This he could do, probably. Usually when he tried to dance, he looked like a piece of cooked spaghetti wiggling about. _“I just ignore it, but they keep sayin’ we laugh just a little too loud. Stand just a little too close. We stare just a little too long.”_ Peter left one hand where it was and took Stiles’s hand in the other, pulling him close so their hips were pressed together. _“Maybe they’re seein’ something we don’t, darlin’.”_

 _“Let’s give ‘em somethin’ to talk about.”_ Stiles laughed as he got the hang of the beat and even started to move his feet. He stepped on Peter’s foot once, but he was quickly forgiven. He was turned in a circle at one point and even dipped at another. They danced through slow songs and not-so-slow songs. He even turned around and leaned against Peter’s front, pushing his ass against Peter’s crotch. Peter definitely seemed to enjoy that if the soft laugh in Stiles’s ear and the hands tightening on his hips were anything to go by.

They were swaying with another slow song--Bob Seger, Peter murmured to him--when Peter’s phone started to go off in his pocket. He pulled back enough to pull it out, sighing softly. He swiped his thumb across the screen and gave Stiles a bit of a frown. “Bar’s closing soon. Time to head back to camp.”

“Aww,” Stiles moaned.

“It’s alright, Stiles,” Peter told him, catching the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I’m not done with you yet.”

That put a little skip in Stiles’s step as he followed Peter around while he gathered up the other teenagers and ushered them out to the car. “Did everyone learn valuable life lessons today?” Peter asked the group as he started up the car.

“I learned about Stonewall and how the mother of the gay rights movement was a black trans woman named Marsha P Johnson,” Emily said excitedly. “And that since gays and lesbians have been fighting for rights since the sixties, I should be happy with who I am and not let anyone try to make me feel guilty for how I feel.”

“Oh, good.”

Ethan put up his hand. “I learned how to roll a condom on a banana with my mouth.”

Peter blinked, staring back at Ethan, before he let out a little ‘hm’ and looked forward. “I suppose that is a good technique to have.” He started the car then, and they were heading back to True Directions.

Stiles felt giddy, almost like a ball of nervous energy as Peter turned on the radio and the girls sang along as Ethan and Aiden proved to be pretty good beatboxers. He was eager to learn what Peter had meant about not being done with him. He wanted to climb into Peter’s lap and suck his tongue right out of his head. He wanted to do much more than that. 

When they reached the camp area, Peter turned the headlights off the avoid detection, rolling to a quiet stop. "Okay, kids, I hope you had fun--"

"We did!" Emily and Caitlin whisper-shouted in unison.

Peter chuckled. "Good. Now get to bed."

Stiles sat there, practically vibrating with eagerness. What were they going to do? Fuck in the shack? Maybe a quickie in the backseat? Honestly Stiles would have been satisfied with that.

But what came out of Peter's mouth was so much better. "How would you like to see my place?"

Stiles sucked in a breath to sing out _Yes!_ but then he stopped because he had a sobering thought and looked toward the cabins. "Uh, I have to..."

"I'll have you back by bed check at dawn,” Peter assured him, so Stiles nodded hard enough to shake his brain. Peter chuckled and turned the car on again and left the campsite, driving back to town while holding Stiles’s hand.

Peter’s apartment building was really nice, three stories of grey stone with crawling ivy up the walls. Peter only let his hand go long enough to shut off the car, They walked through the parking garage, and Stiles felt like dancing. When they reached the elevator, he managed to calm his bouncing and keep from swinging his and Peter’s hands like they were frolicking through a field of wildflowers. The feeling was there though.

When they got to Peter’s apartment, Stiles wasn’t actually that interested in poking around. Couch, bookcase, TV, awesome. Where was the bedroom?

“Do you want something to drink?” Peter asked politely.

“Yes, your dick,” was the monstrosity that tumbled out of Stiles’s mouth, and he immediately looked mortified as Peter gave him a questioning look, eyebrow lifted. “That sounded better in my head.” He let out a little laugh, before he dropped his head into the hand Peter wasn’t holding.

Peter laughed and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Don’t worry about it,” he murmured into Stiles’s hair. “C’mon.” He turned Stiles around and started walking him toward the hallway off to the side. 

“My answer would have been better if you’d asked if I wanted anything to eat, huh?” Stiles mumbled as he was led.

“Probably,” Peter agreed.

Peter’s room was nice, all warm wooden furniture and a bed with tall posts. Stiles turned toward Peter, who gave him a smirk, before he moved close and took hold of the outer shirt Stiles had on, pushing it down his arms to fall on the floor. Then he went for the hem of Stiles’s undershirt shirt. But Stiles wiggled away when Peter tried to lift it off. He let out a nervous little laugh and held his arms close to his body. “You first,” he squeaked, before he cleared his throat.

Without saying a word about Stiles’s obvious anxiety, Peter pulled off his shirt and let it drop off his fingers onto the ground. He was so fucking handsome with his perfect amount of chest hair and his thick happy trail. Stiles wanted to touch him all over.

Stiles licked his lips, and said, “Damn you with your Photoshopped abs and perfect… nipples.”

Maybe he should just stop talking at all.

Peter chuckled like his was charmed by Stiles’s ridiculousness, before he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans. “Do you want me to keep going?” At Stiles’s eager nod, he undid the button and slowly pulled down the zip.

Stiles sucked in a breath as he spied dark curly pubes. “No underwear?” He swallowed, finding his mouth dry. 

“I like to let my boys breathe.” Peter shrugged like it wasn’t important, before he pushed his pants down and stepped out of the puddle of fabric they made. And that was a dick, thick and heavy with foreskin curling over the head, wow. He started toward Stiles in all his naked glory, so unashamed of his body. Stiles wondered what that felt like. “You may need to take off your clothes too if you want to do anything.”

With his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, Stiles nodded. “Yeah, but can we, like, turn off the lights and get under the covers first?”

Peter snorted, reaching up to take Stiles’s hands and slowly pull them away from his body. “If that’s the way you really want to do it, I won’t say no, but I want to see you.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, not even sure how to process that someone as hot as Peter wanted to see someone like Stiles naked.

“Really.” Peter took hold of the hem of Stiles’s shirt again. “Okay?”

Stiles nodded, lifting his arms obediently and shuddering a little as the air touched his skin. He felt like a fair maiden in one of those period romance novels. Not that he’d ever read those, of course. But this wasn’t one of those situations where he was married off to some lord and would have to lie back and think of England before dying in childbirth later. He wanted to be here, wanted to be with Peter. He needed to get a hold of himself and stop being scared.

So he undid his pants and pushed them down, momentarily leaving himself in just his Justice League boxers, before he pushed those down too. He let Peter have a good look, swallowing as he fought not to cover all of his sensitive bits. The way Peter dragged his eyes up and down his body felt like an actual caress, and Stiles felt his body go hot as Peter smirked like he approved of what he saw.

“You have adorable moles,” Peter told him as he stepped closer.

Stiles grinned crookedly, going to take a step closer too, so they’d be touching. “You should see the ones on my--ah!” And he fell right into Peter’s arms, having forgotten about the pants around his ankles.

After catching Stiles so easily, Peter seemed to be trying his hardest not to laugh as he smiled down at him. “You were saying?”

“My butt has so many moles, it might as well be a Connect the Dots paper,” Stiles blurted out, blushing up to the tips of his ears.

“That’s precious,” Peter said, before he lifted Stiles out of the tangle of clothes and set him on the bed. 

Stiles sucked in a breath and forced himself not to cover his nethers, instead clutching at his face like The Scream painting. “I’m a virgin,” he blurted out, because it really needed to be said. Peter didn’t need to think he had any skills in the sack. “Just so you know and stuff.” 

“I gathered that much already,” Peter told him with a smirk. “I don’t mind it if you don’t.”

“Are you actually asking me if I want to lose my virginity to the hottest guy I’ve ever seen?” Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes hard enough to strain his eyeballs. “The answer is a resounding ‘duh!’”

“I’m the hottest guy you’ve ever seen?” Peter grinned.

Stiles couldn’t help his laughter. “Oh my god, that’s the part you latch onto? You narcissist.” 

“Guilty,” Peter conceded. He climbed onto the bed and knelt over Stiles, his knees bracketing Stiles’s slim hips. Stiles couldn’t help but drop his eyes to his dick, which seemed to be chubbing up. That of course meant blood rushed to his own dick since it was desperate to be included, and wow, this was happening. 

“Hey,” Peter said, taking Stiles’s hands and moving them away from his face. “You with me?”

Swallowing and letting out a shaky breath, Stiles nodded. Peter leaned down and caught his lips in a kiss, and it was easy to move against him then. Peter directed him where he wanted, worshiping his pale body with kisses, little licks and nips. Stiles’s dick was leaking by the time Peter rolled him onto his back and settled between his legs, nuzzling at his pubic hair.

“Oh my god,” Stiles whimpered, his eyes closed because he knew that if he looked down at Peter and his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of his dick, he might just come right then and give virgins everywhere a bad name. He needed a chance to pretend he had stamina.

Peter kissed the head of his aching dick, and Stiles whimpered in response. The feel of Peter’s tongue against his dick was like a white hot brand that had him arching and spreading his legs wide. He hoped his giant feet with their finger-like toes weren’t a turn off. He was trying to think of a way to hide his toes in the covers when Peter engulfed Stiles’s dick in one swallow, and suddenly his toes weren’t a priority anymore.

“Agh, fuck!” Stiles cried out, pawing at the mattress. Truth be told, he wouldn’t know the difference between good head and bad head, but he was pretty sure Peter sucking his brain out through his dick and humming constituted as good head. He could actually feel Peter’s tongue swirling around the head of his dick.

“Oh shit, shit, gonna--oh god--” Stiles broke off in a moan, finally opening his eyes and looking down at Peter, but that was the worst thing he could do. Peter looked totally zen. “You’re gonna make me--” He squeaked as Peter looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes, his pupils blown wide, before he buried his nose in Stiles’s pubes.

“Ah, fuck, Peter, uhn!” Stiles clawed at the covers as his back snapped into an arch, coming down Peter’s throat and seeing stars as he did so. He rode the shockwaves as Peter swallowed around him and then started to lick. It was so good, but it was starting to become too much, almost hurting, and he whined as he tried to wriggle away.

Peter chuckled a little and crawled up Stiles’s body, blanketing him with his heat, and sank a hand in his hair. “How was that?” he asked, and Stiles made a garbled noise that wasn’t even pretending to be English. “That good, huh?” Stiles peeked at Peter in time to get kissed. Peter rocked his hips against Stiles’s so he could feel the hardness jutting into his inner thigh.

“Mm, is that going in me?” Stiles groaned as the kiss ended, because he never had a brain to mouth filter and wasn’t about to develop one now.

“That’s generally the idea,” Peter said, lips moving against Stiles’s jaw line. “Nervous?”

“It’s just so… big.” Stiles murmured, and he could just feel Peter grinning against his skin. “God, you have a giant ego.”

“Thank you for noticing, on both accounts.” Peter chuckled, before he propped himself up on his elbow. “I’m going to be all cliché and say we don’t have to if you don’t want to. I won’t even be disappointed.” His eyes flicked around. “Though I might have to go have a shower before I take you back to the camp. A sad, lonely shower.”

Stiles couldn’t help it. He laughed. Peter smiled down at him, so Stiles pressed in close, licking his lips. “I want to,” he told him, he hand sliding down their bodies to wrap around Peter’s dick. 

Peter let out a low moan, thrusting into Stiles’s hand, and Stiles gave him a squeeze, twisting his hand at the head of his dick. It was weird to feel the meat of Peter’s dick under the silky foreskin. Not bad weird, though, more like the kind of weird that Stiles would have poked at over and over again. 

But then Peter was moving, sitting up between Stiles’s legs and reaching over to pull a condom and lube from the bedside table. Stiles licked his lips as he watched Peter slick his fingers, catching his own knees and spreading his legs wide to put himself on display.

He’d done this before, to himself obviously, but only three or four times. Every time he didn’t use any lube, so he had only been able to use one finger. He was definitely ready for more.

Peter prepared him slow, going with one finger first, watching Stiles’s face as if he was ready to stop if Stiles showed any discomfort. He didn’t, because Stiles was eager and relaxed. His eyelids fluttered as Peter pressed in a second finger, brushing against a place he’d never been able to touch himself. He arched with a moan, licking his lips.

He could feel himself fattening up, his hair trigger refractory period proving itself again. He wanted to come next time on Peter’s dick, which was why he gave Peter a pleading look. _Hurry up,_ he wanted to say, and Peter seemed to get the hint, but instead of stretching him more, he grinned and crooked his fingers, over and over, torturously slow.

“You look good like this,” Peter told him in a low voice.

“Oh my god, you--” Stiles tried, before he gasped at a brush against his prostate. “Please!”

“Please?” Peter murmured back to him. “Does that mean you want me to get on with it?” At Stiles’s desperate little noise, he just smiled wider. “But I’m having so much fun.”

Stiles had never felt the urge to bite someone before. He rocked his hips pointedly, before he bared his teeth. “C’mon!”

“C’mon what?” Peter asked lightly, still stroking him inside with two fingers.

Stiles wasn’t sure how he managed to blush in embarrassment with fingers in his ass, but there it was. God, he wanted Peter so bad. He knew it was going to be good. “F-fuck me!” he succeeded in crying out.

Peter licked his lips at that. “Your wish is my command,” he purred, scissoring his fingers one last time. 

Stiles wanted to throw some classic snark at him, but his mouth went dry as he watched Peter roll the condom onto his dick and lube himself up even more. He watched Peter get into position, guiding himself, before he remembered something and squeaked, pushing his hands against Peter’s arms. “Wait,” he gasped, and Peter did, blinking down at him. “Do I… have to call you ‘Daddy?’” 

There were a few heartbeats where Peter was just staring down at him, before his expression broke and he just started to laugh. “No,” he said, still chuckling as Stiles felt so much more at ease, smiling back up at him. “You don’t have to.”

Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Good.” He grabbed his legs again and gave Peter a grin. “Proceed.”

Shaking his head a little like he was questioning life choices, Peter got into position again. The pressure felt like something huge, something that would never fit no matter how much lube, and Stiles whined, putting his head back. Peter kissed Stiles’s knee, not stopping until the head of his thick dick popped through the ring of his hole. It hurt, but it also felt so _fucking_ good, like heat licking up his spine. 

Once fully inside and once Stiles felt like he had to whole fucking world up his ass, Peter caught Stiles’s lips with his and started to move in long, delicious slides. His dick dragged against the places that made Stiles’s whimper, and Peter swallowed down his sounds each time. It was a feeling that Stiles could give himself over to, and he did, raking his nails up and down Peter’s back and experiencing some serious smugness that Peter was moaning too.

But then Peter shifted his position, getting up onto his knees. He took Stiles by the hips, lifting him up so his weight was on his shoulders, and he started to fuck the smugness right out of him. 

“Ahn, fuck!” Stiles cried out, trying to figure out what to do with his hands, before he just grabbed the pillows above his head and held on. There really wasn’t much else to do as he let out loud cries every time Peter’s hips slammed against his ass.

He understood now why everyone talked about sex so much. He thought it couldn’t really be so awesome, though he was eager to join the masses as de-virginized, but it really was just that good. It was probably because he was with someone who really knew what they were doing, so _haha_ to anyone whose first time had sucked. 

He was flying high on pleasure, and he could feel his orgasm rushing through him, the pleasure starting to peak, so acute it was almost pain. “Fuck, Peter, Peter,” he babbled, his mouth working on its own. “God, yeah, right there, fuck--!” He cut off in a keen.

“You gonna come on my cock?” Peter growled to him, and fuck that was hot. “C’mon, I want to feel it.”

Stiles let out a shout, his back bowing tight as his cock spurted completely untouched over his tummy and chest. When he dropped back to the bed, Peter continued to pound into him, and it was enough to make his eyes go cross. He whined, his dick giving a valiant little twitch. 

Peter’s hips slapped against his ass one last time, before he let out a low much as his cock jolted inside of Stiles, no doubt filling up the condom. “Shit, Stiles,” he murmured, dropping his head as his hands tightened and loosened rhythmically on Stiles’s hips. There were going to be bruises later, and Stiles was fucking delighted.

Actually, he was pretty much ecstatic with everything, like the waves of chemicals his brain was swimming in, the buzzing of his body, the numbness in his toes and the awesome ache in his ass when Peter gently pulled out. Peter looked like he was about to move away, but Stiles opened his arms hopefully to him, and Peter snorted, moving into his embrace.

“Good?” Peter asked, nudging Stiles’s jaw with his nose.

“Great,” Stiles murmured back, his arms around Peter’s neck. “Do you have to move right now?”

“I need to get rid of the condom and clean up a bit.” Peter flattened his palms against the bed, peppering Stiles’s cheek with tiny kisses. “Then we can cuddle.”

“Promise?” 

“Cross my heart.” The smile was completely obvious in Peter’s voice.

Stiles chuckled and released him. “Okay.”

Peter pushed himself up and headed for the bathroom, and Stiles took a second to admire his ass when he saw something.

“Hey, wait,” he said, and Peter stopped, looking at him. “C’mere.” When Peter did, he twirled his finger, and Peter sighed as he turned around, cocking his butt to one side. Stiles giggled behind his hand. There was a little whorl of hair right on Peter’s tailbone. It was fucking adorable. He reached over and poked it. “Boop.”

Peter sighed like it was taxing being around Stiles, before he swatted at his hand and continued with what he’d been doing. “Dork.” He went into the bathroom, taking only a couple minutes before he came back without a condom hanging on his dick but with a cloth in his hand. He touched it to Stiles’s front, and Stiles found it warm, though he shivered anyway as Peter cleaned up the come on his chest and belly. Then he wiped up the extra lube between Stiles’s cheeks, which made him shiver and giggle. 

With a grin, Peter just dropped the cloth onto the floor and crawled onto the bed, getting comfortable against the pillows before he held open his arms. Stiles immediately snuggled up against him, smooshing his face into Peter’s shoulder and ruffling Peter’s chest hair with his hand. After a second, he threw his leg over Peter’s thighs.

“Ha, I have you.”

“Oh no, I am trapped,” Peter replied in a soft sigh, one of his hands sliding up and down Stiles’s back.

Stiles twirled his fingers in Peter’s chest hair for a minute, before he looked up at his fingers. “Um, thanks for this. I mean, the whole sex thing. It was good.”

Peter snorted and kissed Stiles’s forehead. “Trust me. It wasn’t a chore.” 

Biting his lip, Stiles had a thought. “Do you do this every time?”

“Hm?”

“Bring home some impressionable virgin and sex them up?”

“They’re not always virgins.”

Stiles sighed, feeling like cold water had been splashed all over him, and he sat up, turning away.

“Get back here,” Peter grumbled, laughing as he grabbed onto Stiles and pulled him back into the hug. “What do you want me to say? That I haven’t been interested in anyone else at the camp? Well, that’s not true. I’ve been with True Directions for ten years.” He lifted his hand and tipped Stiles’s chin up so Peter could look into his eyes. “I’m a bit of a slut.”

Stiles tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t help the little giggle that left him.

Peter smirked at him. “But, I will admit something, Stiles. I’ve never shared cigarettes with anyone. I’ve never bandaged someone’s hands.” He slid his thumb across Stiles’s jaw. “I’ve never danced with anyone before. I don’t know what it is about you, Stiles, but you’re special to me.”

Well, that had Stiles smiling uncontrollably into Peter’s shoulder. “Good,” he finally said, laying his head back down.

“Sleep for a bit,” Peter instructed. “I’ll wake you up when we need to leave.”

“‘Kay,” Stiles murmured, before he yawned wide. It was easy to get comfortable when he’d had two orgasms and Peter was so warm. He snuffled a little as Peter pulled the covers over the both of them, before he sighed and let himself be pulled under.

When he woke up again, it was to Peter gently shaking him. He grumbled and tried to cling tighter, but Peter just kissed his forehead and disentangled himself from Stiles’s octopus grip. “Time to get dressed,” Peter told him, and Stiles just grunted and tried to hide in the pillows, but soon articles of clothing were being dumped on him. All he could do was moan unhappily.

Once they were both dressed and in the car, Stiles sleepily played with the radio, and Peter didn’t stop him. They made it to camp, and Stiles sighed as he looked at the cabins. He didn’t want this little adventure to end. He turned toward Peter and gave him a pouty face. 

“What’s the face for?” Peter asked with a smirk. “I’ll see you tomorrow--well, today, later.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, like he was terribly put out, then he laughed as Peter shoved his shoulder. “Do I get a kiss goodnight?”

Peter rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss him, slow and sweet. “Get out of here.”

Stiles laughed. “See you.” He hopped out of the car and skedaddled across the camp yard to get into the cabin right as a light went on in the main house.

When Stiles made it to the cabin, he opened and closed the door, before he jumped into bed and pulled the covers up to his nose. He pretended to be totally asleep a few minutes later when Mary opened the door and shined a light in at them to check if they were all there. Then she left to head over to the girls cabin. So he relaxed and let himself fall to sleep for a bit, smiling to himself about how the night had gone.

* * *

After that night of life affirming discovery, it was easy Stiles to play pretend. He knew who he was now, so all he had to do was fake it, like Peter said. He was pretty sure that everyone else was planning on doing to the same thing, if the looks they all kept sharing were anything to go by. Stiles kept saying what Mary wanted to hear, and he could see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Peter and Stiles kept what they had going. They still worked everyday, but when they were done they usually ended up making out in the shack. Peter would crowd Stiles up against the door or pull him into his lap on one of the armchairs. Stiles learned how kiss better and suck dick, then he found out what it was like to have a tongue against his ass.

They almost got caught with their pants down when Mary came to get him in the middle of a work day, but they managed to put themselves together quickly after Peter spotted Mary out the small window. Stiles smoothed his hair and stepped out right as Mary was about to knock.

“Oh, there you are,” Mary chirped, dropping her arm. “Come along. Your father is here. It’s time for a second try at family therapy.” 

Stiles smiled in surprise, before he followed Mary inside. When he saw his dad standing awkwardly in the group room, he jogged toward him. “Pops!” When John turned his way, he all but launched himself into his father’s arms, giggling like he hadn’t seen him in years.

"Hey, bud." John hugged Stiles tight and patted his back. "It's good to see you."

"If you two gentlemen will please have a seat?" Mary said sweetly, waiting for them to park their butts on a couch before she sat in her throne-like chair. "I'm glad you could come in, Mr Stilinski. Stiles has been making strides since the last time we saw you."

"That's great to hear." John squeezed Stiles's shoulder, and Stiles felt a little bad that it was all a lie. But it was nice to see John happy again, instead of stressed out with worry.

“Yes,” Mary agreed. “Now, Stiles, last time you said that your root of homosexuality was being exposed to pornography at a young age. Are you sticking to that?”

Stiles was a bit surprised at the question. He’d thought Mary was going to shower him with gold stars and praise. “Yeah,” he tried, holding out the word. “I mean, that’s all I can really think of.” It was the best bullshit he had.

“Okay.” Mary moved on, telling John all about how Stiles had reacted well to all the steps. He did well with completely gender specific tasks, which seemed to please John, who laughed when Mary told him how excited Stiles got over baseball. 

Stiles couldn’t help his frown, feeling empty as John smiled along with what Mary was saying, even patting Stiles’s back, his hand huge and warm. This wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he’d thought it had be, only gave him comfort for a moment before it was over. 

“And I think Stiles might have a little crush on one of the girl campers,” Mary was saying, smiling as she looked at Stiles.

“Really?” John asked, turning to look at him too.

What? Stiles didn’t have any idea what they meant. But then he remembered Mary’s grin when she’d caught him comforting someone after the sex ed videos. “Oh, right, yeah, her name is Heather, and she’s really cool.” He looked down, hoping to look coy instead of a little sick. He knocked his heels together as Mary laughed and John squeezed the back of his neck.

“Heather’s a lovely girl.” Mary looked at her clipboard, humming a little bit. “There’s only one more task to complete before graduation, and I have faith that Stiles will do well.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” John smiled and looked at Stiles, who gave him a weak smile back.

 _Why don’t you love me the way I am?_ he wanted to ask. _Am I not good enough?_

Mary stood, smoothing down her skirt. “I’ll give you two gentlemen some time together as a reward for doing so well, Stiles. See you at lunch.”

“Yeah.” Stiles watched her walk away and wished she’d just go up in flames.

“Finally put some effort into this, huh, kiddo?” John asked, giving Stiles’s shoulder a bit of a friendly shake. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Stiles looked down at his lap, rubbing at some kind of stain on his jeans with his thumb. “It’s not so bad once you stop fighting it.” 

“You still doing some landscaping?” 

“Yeah, with Peter, the groundskeeper,” Stiles replied, picking at the stain with his nail now. “He’s a cool dude, I guess. He won’t let me use the chainsaw though.”

John let out a comforting belly laugh. “That’s probably all for the better.” He started talking about various things on the homefront, like how when Mrs Butterson across the street had asked where Stiles was, John had told her camp, and she’d made sure to tell him Stiles needed to be wearing sunscreen. Jenny, the cashier at the food market they always go to, had asked where Stiles was then scolded John for trying to buy frozen pizza and Snickers.

Stiles giggled, before he swatted his father’s arm.

“It’s been weird not having you around the house, bud. It’s too quiet, for one thing. I miss you, and I’m glad you’re coming home soon.”

Stiles swallowed hard, feeling his eyes sting. “Y-yeah, me too.”

When John left, it was with a tight hug then Stiles felt bad for enjoying so much. After waving his dad off, Stiles walked almost automatically to the shack, opening the door and wandering in. Peter was at the computer, and he stood up when Stiles moved over to him, starting to ask something, but he stopped as Stiles just folded himself against his chest and started to cry. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Peter murmured to him, bringing his arms up to envelop Stiles. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” 

Stiles held tight to Peter’s shirt.

* * *

“Okay, kids, this is the last step to your graduation,” Mary said as she stood in front of them. They were sitting around a fire on two-person logs, everyone paired up except for poor Jared, who was looking a little sick today. Stiles was with Heather, who smiled at him when he looked at her.

“I want you to turn to your partner and tell them something you find attractive about them. Anything at all.” Mary was perched on a single log, ankles crossed and pen poised above her clipboard. “We’ll start over here. Ethan--”

“Aiden.”

“Aiden, sorry, sweetie. Why don’t you tell Emily something nice about her?”

Aiden turned towards Emily and smiled. “Um, well, you’re really pretty. I mean, like super pretty. I’d totally date you.” He and Emily shared an awkward gaze, before he looked over at Mary and shrugged.

“That’s good, Aiden. Physical attraction is important.” Mary scribbled a bit on her clipboard before looking up again. “Emily, how about you say something nice about Aiden?”

Emily touched her lips. “You have really nice muscles?”

Aiden smiled. “Thanks, I lift.”

“Cool.” Emily giggled.

Mary smiled wide like she was some sort of nature photographer watching two animals court each other. “Good, good. Moving on.” She pointed her pen to the next pair. “Caitlin, why don’t you tell us something you like about Ethan?”

“Well,” Caitlin started, looking at Ethan critically. “You have really nice… hair, actually. It’s so silky-looking.” She reached up and touched Ethan’s hair. “Wow, and it’s soft! How did you get it so soft?”

Ethan grinned. “I do these oil treatments every month. You just have to heat up some coconut oil in a mug in a saucepan with water in it, massage it into your scalp, and--”

“Yes, thank you, that’s plenty about that, Ethan,” Mary said, holding her hand out to halt any more of his explanation. “Why don’t you tell us what you like about Caitlin?”

“Oh, you have a cool tattoo,” Ethan said, pointing to Caitlin’s foot. She smiled and pushed down her pink sock to show of the tribal tattoo of a lizard. “I want a tattoo someday. I don’t know what of though. How long did it take you to decide?”

“Only like forever,” Caitlin admitted, laughing.

“Okay!” Mary interrupted, looking a little annoyed. “Thank you, both of you, continuing on. Stiles, tell us something you like about Heather.”

Stiles looked at Heather, and she gazed back at him with big doe-like eyes. He swallowed and lifted a hand, holding it palm up for her to take. She hesitated a moment, before she laid her hand in his, smiling just barely as he gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re beautiful,” Stiles told her. “You’re smart. You’re kind. You’re a good person.”

Heather sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend,” Stiles went on. “But I would never try to force anything on you. You’re fine on your own if that’s not what you want. You’re strong. You’re awesome.” He smiled as Heather let out a wet laugh. 

“Uh, pardon me,” Mary said, cutting in. “What exactly are you saying, Stiles?”

“I would totally date Heather,” Stiles explained, still looking at Heather instead of Mary. “But if she’s not into that, I’m totally cool with it, because I respect her as a person, and I want her to be happy.” 

Mary didn’t seem to know what to say about that exactly. “Oh,” she eventually mumbled as Heather was smiling to wide at Stiles and squeezing his hand. “Well, alright then.”

* * *

“Okay, this is terrible,” Stiles announced as he stepped out of the changing area, a frown stamped firmly on his face.

It was the day of graduation, and all of the boys had been provided shiny blue suits that squeaked a bit when you moved. The jackets didn’t seem big enough for Aiden and Ethan’s massive shoulders, and Jared looked like he had a wedgie. Stiles kept pulling at the front because he was pretty sure he had some man camel toe action going on.

They left the cabin and met up with the girls, who all looked pretty surly in their awful pink prom dresses and their hair done up in big, 90s styles. Ethan giggled and poked fun about the pink lipstick and blue eyeshadow, and Caitlin punched him in the arm hard enough for him to grab the spot and wince.

They headed to the main house, Caitlin fighting with her heels the whole way. There was a place behind the house set up with a podium and rows of benches. Everyone’s parents were already there, and they turned to watch them. John gave a little wave, and Stiles waggled his fingers back. They sat down on the back benches, boys on one side and girls on the other, just like Mary had directed.

Once they were settled, Mary stepped up to the podium and smiled at everyone. “Hello, campers, the family of the campers, thank you all for joining us today. I’d like to take a little time to explain what we have been doing here for the last six weeks.”

That was when Stiles stopped paying attention, instead looking around. Off to the side and well behind the benches, Peter was leaning against a tree, looking hot in a v-neck and his hands shoved in his pockets. He smiled when Stiles looked at him, like he’d been watching him. Stiles grinned back, tipping his chin against his shoulder. 

When he looked back, Aiden was standing up and heading to the front after Mary called his name. She handed him a glass plaque and shook his hand, telling him that he had done well. One by one, everyone got up after being called and walked up to the front, until the only one that was left was Stiles.

When he was finally called, he stood up and took a deep breath, feeling the spotlight on him as everyone watched him watch up the aisle. He just had to focus on the fact that he would be going home right after this, after changing out of the fucking dreadful suit, of course. 

He reached the front of the aisle and gave Mary a wary smile as she handed him the award. It was a glass square fitted into a wood stand, depicting a cartoon man and woman holding hands with his man at the bottom. Yeah, this was going in the crawl space with the spiders when he got home. 

“Thanks,” he said, accepting her handshake and turning to go sit with the others.

“Hold on a minute, Stiles.” Mary kept hold of his hand, giving him an empty smile. “Before you go, I just want to clarify the root of your homosexuality with you, here in front of your friends and family.” 

Stiles made a face. “Okay.” He slid his eyes over to his father, who looked as confused as he felt.

That smile on Mary’s face grew, and there was something bitter or cruel about it. “You said that your root was pornography exposure at a young age, but I think that is incorrect. I think your root is that your mother died at an age critical for your sexual development.”

Stiles’s eyes went wide. This woman could not honestly being saying what was coming out of her mouth. 

“You see, it is important for children to have two parents so they see what a proper and healthy relationship is all about. You lost your mother and had to depend on your father, so you grew to crave the attention of men. You didn’t want a woman’s attention, because you didn’t have a mother around to teach you what it’s liked to be loved by one. It really is a pity that your mother chose to leave you at such a crucial age. If she had tried harder, maybe lived a cleaner life, this could have been avoided.” Mary patted his arm. “But you’re fixed now.”

Stiles saw red. “You fucking bitch!” he roared in Mary’s face, and she jerked back as if burned. “My other didn’t leave me! She suffered for months, and then she died! All you’ve been doing since we got here is spouting this pseudo-scientific bullshit that you probably got off the Westboro Baptist church pamphlets!”

Mary blinked a few times. “That’s not true.”

“You keep telling us to change what we are, but why is what we are bad? Because it’s not natural? All sexualities are natural, you twat, otherwise they wouldn’t exist. It’s not like they’re man-made, but whatever, you only see and hear what you want, and you’ve been telling us to hate ourselves.” Stiles sucked in a shaky breath. “We’re teenagers, you shit stain. We don’t even think about sexuality until someone tells us it’s wrong.”

Mary pursed her lips, cocking a brow haughtily. “I see that you’re a lost cause after all. I knew it. You’re just going to live in sin, contract AIDS and die.”

Stiles gritted his teeth, before he lifted the plaque up and slammed it into the ground in a glittering display of breaking glass. Mary screamed in horror. “I like who I am! Gay or straight, it doesn’t matter, because I’m my own person. If people don’t love me for who I am--” He glanced at his father, eyes starting to sting. “Then I don’t need them in my life.” he heart his heart clench as his dad looked devastated.

“You--you--!” Mary was trying to shout, her face going red with anger.

“Stiles is right!” Heather shouted, standing up and taking a deep breath. “I’m not straight or gay, and I’m still figuring it out, but I don’t need to be in a heterosexual relationship to be happy! I can do that just fine on my own!” She smashed her award into the ground with a deafening sound.

“Stop it!” Mary screamed, but the other were standing up too. “Those are fifty dollars a piece!”

“I’m gay,” Ethan said, smiling like he couldn’t help it. “And I may not have everything figured out yet, but I know who I am, and that’s something.” He smashed his trophy too, and broken glass went everywhere.

“I’m straight,” Aiden piped up, before he grabbed Ethan’s hand. “But I’m not going to abandon my brother just because he’s gay. I love him, and I will stick by him forever.” He chunked his award against the ground.

“I’m a lesbian!” Caitlin cried, jumping up. “And I’m in love with Emily!”

“Me too!” Emily joined in, grabbing Caitlin’s hand. “I mean, I’m a lesbian, and I love you too.” With matching grins on their faces, they sent their awards smashing onto the ground.

Everyone looked at Jared, and he slowly stood up, clutching the glass plaque to his chest. “I don’t know what I am. I think I can love everyone, anyone. I don’t think it’s healthy to try to fit yourself into a box. And this place fucking sucks.” He threw his award down, shattering it.

“My man, Jared,” Stiles said, grinning.

“Get out of here!” Mary shrieked at Stiles, whirling on him and shoving a thin pointing finger in his face. “Get out of here now before I tear your fucking head off, you faggot!”

Peter appeared out of nowhere then, taking Stiles’s arm and leading him down the aisle as the children applauded and the parents started to scream about refunds. “Way to make a scene, kid,” Peter said as the headed around the house. There was warmth in his voice, affection. “I’ve never seen Mary so ticked off.”

Stiles just started laughing, kind of hysterically to be honest. He’d never felt so good about himself in his entire life. “I’m so awesome.”

“You are,” Peter agreed, giving him a grin as Stiles continued to laugh. When they reached the parking area, Peter turned and crushed his lips against Stiles’s, fierce and quick, bringing Stiles back down to Earth. Peter slipped a piece of paper into Stiles’s hand. “Call me when you’re legal.”

Stiles watched him walk away, smiling like the whole world was at his fingertips. He headed toward the cabins, laughing as the yelling continued at the back of the house. He quickly changed, leaving the suit on the floor, and grabbed his bag, tucking Peter’s number somewhere safe. When he emerged, he spotted his dad in the parking area.

John was leaning against the cruiser, looking down at the ground, sullen. When Stiles approached him, he looked up. Immediately he looked pained. “Stiles...” His mouth worked a moment, wordless, before he cleared his throat. “Look, I… If you’re gay, then you’re gay. I’ll just have to deal with it and everything that comes with it. I can't promise I'll know what to do, how to react. You're going to have to be patient with me. But I'll do anything, _anything_ it takes. When you said…” He moved close to Stiles and took hold of his shoulders. “I love you, kiddo. I love you more than anything else in the world. If I lost you, it would break me.”

Stiles swallowed a knot in his throat and dropped his bag, moving into his father’s arms. “I love you too, Dad,” he mumbled--well--whimpered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” This was what he needed, and he was so happy that his dad was going to try to adapt for him 

John hugged him hard, like he was afraid he was going to slip away and be gone forever. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

Stiles sniffed loudly as he stepped back, giving his father a watery smile. “It’s okay, Dad. Well, I mean, it’s not okay. You just lost all your grounding privileges until I go to college.” John chuckled at that. “But I learned stuff about myself here, and I don’t regret… some of it. Seventy percent of it. I mean, Pops, c’mon, what did you honestly think when you sent a bunch of gay kids to camp together?”

John rolled his eyes. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I forgive your bad judgement.” Stiles gave his father’s arm a playful punch. 

“I appreciate that,” John huffed.

“But, Dad, just so you know, I’m not gay.” Stiles felt serene as John gave him a confused look. He took a deep breath and all but shouted “I’m hella bi!” and beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *does a jig* That's all folks!


End file.
